


The Dragonscale Sonatas

by WritingRabbits



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragons, F/M, Gen, Modern Girl in Thedas, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2018-03-26 06:46:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 44
Words: 184,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3841057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingRabbits/pseuds/WritingRabbits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After having an anxiety attack that ends with her passed out on her bedroom floor, Maggie Ayer wakes up to find she's in an unfamiliar body in an extremely unfamiliar world. Will she find a new life for herself in Thedas, or will her past continue to haunt her every step?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Day in the Life of Maggie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Chapter rewritten 8/30/15]

If I had to pick a musical form to describe my ideal life, I would choose the rhapsody.

As another way to say “fantasia”, the rhapsody is naturally a piece that is steeped in romance. Its song must convey the adoration it’s inspired by, and - if played correctly - should inspire those who hear it to find their heart’s truest desire. It is a form of love, a way of showing the world how much you care for what you cherish most. Your lover, your family, your collection of vintage baseball cards; if you care enough for it, you can write a rhapsody for it.

Then again, writing music can be a difficult thing to do. There are so many things to keep track of. Will this harmony sound good with the melody, or should I add more variation to it? Should I write this piece in a simple 3/4 time, a compound 9/8 time, or a mixed ⅝ & ⅜ time? Does this measure have too many notes, or are my eyes playing tricks on me? By the time you’ve written the first page, you’re exhausted and practically seeing things!

The same thing can be said about life. It’s a difficult piece to write, even when you have friends and family to help guide you. It can be full of happy moments, like caprices and scherzos, or sad moments, such as nocturnes and requiems. It can be as carefree as an impromptu or as complicated as an arabesque. All it takes is hard work, dedication, and inspiration.

Of course, that’s an idealized view. In truth, life is much harder and much more confusing. With music, you write down a few notes and then play it. With life, you’re improvising the entire way through. Sometimes things don’t go your way, and other times it seems like the world is looking out for you.

For me, life changed from an etude to a symphony in the span of a day. I went from playing the cello and living with my aunt to… well, fighting demons and playing with magic on a daily basis. In another world.

I know it sounds crazy, but trust me, I’m telling the truth. I lived through this mess, every single second of it, and I know how it seems. Just let me start from the beginning, and you’ll understand.

* * *

My last full day on Earth started out like a normal Saturday; a leisurely bicycle ride into town to pick up my mail. Normally I’d pick up the mail after work, but I was expecting a package that should have arrived the day before. Hopefully it would be there today.

The sun was just beginning to rise when I left my tiny cabin and biked down the road into town. The morning air was thick with the smell of morning dew and fresh pine sap, reminding me of pancakes drowning in syrup. My stomach rumbled, reminding me that I needed to find breakfast. I picked up a little speed as I topped a hill, and smiled when the town came into view.

As a small town built out in the dark forests of South Dakota, Spruce Creek was never exactly the most popular place to vacation. It was named for the abundance of blue spruce pine trees that bordered the town and the nearby lake, along with the thin trickle of a stream that flowed through town in the summer. It was common to see a few boats far out on the lake during fishing season, but they never got any closer. I had the inkling that they were just locals who lived in the cabins along the southern shore. Spruce Creek was on the northern shore, buried in pines and slowly being consumed by nature. Everything was covered in vines and weeds, and wildflowers lined the dirt road that served as Main Street.

As I sped down the thin dirt road, I briefly glanced at the buildings as I passed them. The town itself was made up of about five stores and a two story building that served as a government building. One store was a gas station that doubled as a grocery, complete with two do-it-yourself gas pumps and chip aisle that left much to be desired. There was only ever one person on duty, and they usually spent their shift standing outside, spitting chew into a dirty cup. I tended to avoid that place unless I needed a snack.

The second building was a small, family-run hardware store that carried anything that could be transported in the back of a small truck. From barely-used tractor engines to spools of colored wire, the place was made for a MacGyver of any rank.

At one time, the third and fourth buildings had been a cobbler and a real estate office. Now, they were closed down and boarded up, their old owners having long since given up on them. Businesses had a tendency to fail once they got far enough from the big cities, and the ones in Spruce Creek were no exceptions.

The fifth building was the post office, and probably the most visited building in a ten mile radius. Every day - except for Sunday, of course - the citizens of Spruce Creek would hike from their cabins to get their mail. Should a mailman willingly drive through the wilderness to deliver the mail to each cabin, they would quickly find out that none of the houses had mailboxes. The people prefered to walk to their mail rather than drive, and I quietly thanked them every day for that. Without the exhaust that puffed constantly from trucks and cars, the air in my town was clean and clear. Every time I took a breath, I felt invigorated. Even after six years of living there, I never got tired of the constant fresh air.

Pulling up in front of the post office, I squeezed my bike’s brakes and skidded to a stop, dirt and rocks shifting under my wheels as I slowed. I didn’t bother chaining my bike to anything. There was nothing to chain it to, and there was almost no chance of someone coming up and stealing it. I left it leaning against the side of the building and walked up the front steps.

The bell above the door jangled cheerfully when I entered, alerting the staff to my arrival. Or at least it would have, had there been a person standing behind the counter. As far as I could tell, no one was around. And yet, there was my package, sitting on the counter with a smaller package resting on top of it. I walked up to the counter, my beat-up sneakers squeaking with every step, and studied the small parcel. It was a small envelope, bulging slightly in the middle. The address was written on, and the handwriting was squarish and precise.

To: Ellen Hammond  
32 Lakeside Lane NE  
Spruce Creek, SD

There was no return address, but the item was meant for my aunt. I tucked it into my sweater’s pocket and looked back at my own package, a large manilla envelope about an inch thick with a weathered printed label slapped on.

To: Margaret Ayer  
28 Lakeside Lane NE  
Spruce Creek, SD

The return address in the upper left corner of the envelope was smudged, but still legible. It was from a sheet music company based out in California. They had everything from classical pieces to modern songs, organized by date written and then alphabetical order. I didn’t have much of an internet connection, but I spent most of my time on their website, perusing their archives and ordering sheets in bunches that often totaled above $50. If they were having a sale, I was usually doomed to spend even more. Living in the boonies didn’t give me much to do aside from garden, hike, and play the cello.

My love for music had bloomed at the early age of four, and I remember my parents at the time being relieved. As a third - and probably unexpected - child in a rich family, I was kept out of sight and out of mind by nannies and maids as my parents worked full-time jobs and my brothers went to private school. I’d been alone with the strange women for hours at a time, and had started listening to them sing while they cleaned and did laundry. Their languages confused me, but that hadn’t stopped me from singing along.

When several of them had told my parents that I had a gift for music, they had hired tutor after tutor to find out what I was good at. I could sing decently, but couldn’t play a piano for shit. I’d liked the tuba, but that wasn’t considered an elegant instrument. However, my talent for string instruments had been obvious. My father hadn’t wasted any time in finding me a tutor for each one, starting with the violin and viola.

By the time I’d turned ten, I could play the violin, viola, and cello with the ease of a professional. I had so much potential that my teachers had pushed me to start writing my own music. I had loved the idea of writing my own symphonies, but my parents had insisted that writing music would never go anywhere. I had reluctantly given it up in favor of honing my skills to a fine edge. As a result, I’d been given the chance to attend a prestigious music college abroad once I’d graduated from high school. Not that I’d had the chance to attend.

Sometimes I wondered what would’ve happened if life had been kinder to me. Would I have liked college? Would I have made friends? Would my career have taken off after graduation?

Thinking about roads untraveled left me feeling glum, so I scribbled a thank you to the post office attendant and hurried from the building. The sun was still rising; it couldn’t have been past 8 o’clock. I still had time to get to Aunt Ellen’s before she finished breakfast.

I stuffed the package of sheet music, along with Aunt Ellen’s small parcel, into my backpack and hopped onto my bike. A cloud of dirt kicked up under the wheels as I sped down the gravel road, hair whipping in the wind.

As far as looks went, it was obvious that I liked being outside. My skin was tan and heavily freckled from years spent out in the sun, and my brown hair fell in loose waves halfway down my back. My eyes were a soft gray-blue, like a front of stormclouds in the distance. Aunt Ellen had once told me that with my high brows and long lashes, I had a face that was made for “playing all of the boys like fiddles”. When I’d told her I had no intention of ever talking to a boy again, she’d just hummed and gone back to her gardening.

Soon my aunt’s familiar home appeared up ahead, just beyond a copse of towering pine trees. If you glanced at it, the place would look abandoned or uncared for. Moss covered one side of the one-story log cabin, and a rickety fence smothered in ivy surrounded the other side.

However, beyond the fence was a large garden, full to bursting with edible plants and herbs. It was the only thing on the outside that suggested someone lived there. Aunt Ellen was an expert at living off the land, and she made sure to stock plenty of things for the winter. If she couldn’t grow something, she’d barter with neighboring farms or go into towns with a farmer’s market. She knew how to hunt as well, though I’d never seen her do it. I’d just show up for dinner once in a while to see her skinning a deer in her shed, blood and gore spattered all over her apron. The first time I’d seen her do that, I’d fainted.

I rounded a particularly sharp bend in the dirt road, skidding within an inch of the road’s edge. Beyond it was a five foot drop that ended in a patch of blueberries. Though it was tempting to climb down and pick some, I decided against it. I wasn’t in the mood to climb, get muddy, and stain my hands purple just for a snack. Not when breakfast was waiting for me.

I parked my bike against the fence and adjusted my backpack’s straps. The parcel addressed to my aunt jangled quietly inside its wrapping, reminding me of its presence. What had Aunt Ellen bought? A ring? A necklace? A coil of wire? I was so curious that I wanted to rip open the package right there on her doorstep. However, I knew my aunt wouldn’t be happy with that, so I swallowed my curiosity, and knocked on the door instead.

When the door opened, Aunt Ellen stood in the doorway, her expression changing from a scowl to a knowing smile in an instant. Her wrinkled face was framed by strands of silver gray hair escaping the bun at the back of her neck. She wore a loose white shirt and a pair of denim jeans, both worn thin after many years of use.

“Hello, Maggie dear. A little late this morning, aren’t we?”

I offered my aunt a sheepish smile. “Just a little. I had to stop by the post office and pick up something.”

Ellen arched an eyebrow before turning and heading deeper into the house. I stepped inside and closed the door, ditching my shoes before following her. The smell of cooking meat and fresh bread filled my nose, drawing me to the kitchen like a character from one of those old cartoons. I stayed in the safety of the doorway as my aunt bustled over the stove, flipping strip after strip of bacon while a pan of egg-coated bread fried away next to her. Grease popped around her hands, but she never once flinched. She never flinched at anything.

Even after six years of living with her, Ellen Hammond was still a mystery to me. She looked fairly old and frail from a distance, but up close you could see she was still young at heart. Her brown eyes still held a spark of mischief, and she was spry as hell. She could wield a woodcutter’s ax without breaking a sweat, despite being somewhere in her mid-seventies. Technically, she was my great aunt on my father’s side of the family; the widow of an estranged uncle or something.

The best part about visiting Aunt Ellen was her stories. She always had a tale to tell when I visited, and they seemed to walk the razor’s edge between truth and lie. She’d told me stories about when she’d been a spy in World War 2, a nurse in Vietnam, and even the object of a prince’s affection. Were any of her stories true? I had no idea. That didn’t stop me from enjoying them.

“Anything interesting in that package you received, dear?”

Her sudden question startled me out of my thoughts, and I looked up to see her staring at me expectantly. I quickly dropped my bag and dug through it until I found the battered manila envelope. With a quick rip to one end, I drew out the thick bundle of sheet music and began leafing through them. Most of them were cello solos, and their difficulty ranged dramatically.

“Just sheet music, as usual. New stuff, old stuff. Do you want to look through them? There’s some stuff from The Beatles in here. Didn’t you say you met them once?”

Ellen scoffed as she started plating up the food. “Yes, once or twice. What songs do you have?”

I flicked through the papers once more, scanning the titles. “Blackbird, Across the Universe, Hey Prudence, and I Want to Hold Your Hand.”

She shook her head, chuckling quietly. “You and your strange fascination with romance. I don’t think I’ll ever understand it.”

The smile on my face faltered. “I’m not fascinated with it. I just...like the music, is all,” I mumbled. I could feel a cold chill climbing my spine, despite the warmth of the kitchen. Memories I’d pushed away long ago came bubbling to the surface in waves. I could hear the sound of a china cup shattering on the floor of my father’s study. I could see the freshly-brewed espresso seeping into an expensive tapestry rug. My mother's pearl rosary wound tightly around her lithe fingers and pressed to her thin lips, its string a moment away from snapping. My father's face red from rage and shame as he shouted at me. My brothers’ expressions blank and emotionless as they drove me away from the only home I'd known.

“Maggie? Come back to me, dearie.”

I looked up sharply to see Ellen standing on front of me, her hands resting gently on my own. She carefully pulled me to my feet and took the sheet music from my grip, placing it on the counter behind her before pressing her palms to my cheeks. She felt oddly warm, but it was comforting. I found myself sniffling and leaning into her touch, as if keeping her close would chase the cold and the memories away. She was safety. She was home.

“There you are,” she said with a smile. “No more of that today, yes? Let’s have breakfast, then you can help me in the garden. I think we could both use a little relaxing, hm?”

I sniffled again and nodded, rubbing at my eyes with the sleeve of my sweater. Doing a little weeding for her always made me feel better.

* * *

From breakfast until sunset, I crawled through my aunt’s garden, pulling every manner of weed I could find. When I had a basket full of dead and dying weeds, she would direct me to the small garbage can nearby, where she kept food for her rabbit hutch. When she wasn’t looking, I’d sneak around to the shed and stick a few green leaves through the chicken wire cage, offering the tiny creatures a little treat. They always accepted an offering.

By the time the sun began to dip below the treeline, I was exhausted but happy. I felt as though I’d just finished a marathon. My limbs felt heavy, but my mind was at peace. I would sleep well that night.

With our work finished, Aunt Ellen was more than willing to make me a little food before I headed out. She tucked a bag of freshly-picked fruits and vegetables into my backpack, gave me a kiss on the forehead, and sent me on my way with a fond goodnight.

I knew the way back to my cabin by heart, and the ride home passed in a blur of green trees and sunset sky. I barely registered hopping off my bike and bringing it inside, or even taking off my ratty sneakers on the mat inside. I did, however, notice when my backpack jangled unusually as I dropped it on my couch.

After a moment of digging, I found the source of the noise: Aunt Ellen’s parcel. I screeched a curse, suddenly feeling a headache appearing on the horizon. How could I have forgotten to give my aunt her package? How dumb was I? I’d picked things up for her so many times before today. What if this was something important? What if she needed it?

A moment later, I let out a loud sigh and set the tiny envelope on top of my backpack. There was no point in freaking out about it now. It was almost dark, and trying to bike through a pitch-black forest was never a good idea. I would just have to wait until tomorrow to give it to her.

Fifteen minutes later the house was locked up, the fresh food was tucked away in the fridge, and I was ready for bed. The temptation to watch a movie on my laptop was great, but I decided against it; I would’ve just fallen asleep a few minutes into one. I left my computer on my desk and burrowed under my blankets, sleep already pulling me away from the waking world.

Tomorrow, I would give Aunt Ellen her package. Then I would finally get to play some of my new music. But first, sleep.


	2. Into the Unknown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Chapter rewritten 8/30/15]

I awoke the next morning to rolling thunder. Despite it being well past sunrise, the world outside my bedroom window was gloomy and dark. Fat droplets of rain pattered against the glass panes, pooling on the outer sill before dripping down onto the ground. I sat in bed for a few minutes after waking, just watching the rain fall. In a couple months it would be too cold for rain. It would all turn to snow and ice, and I would have to put my bike away for the season. I’d have to break out the firewood and heavy quilts, along with all my winter gear. Hopefully the moths hadn’t gotten to my coats or gloves. I’d have to air them out soon, just to be safe.

Throwing off the covers, I rolled out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen. Even with my eyes half-closed, I could navigate the tiny one-story cabin with ease. I flipped on the coffee machine and inhaled sharply, practically moaning as the smell of coffee filled the room. Bless the small things in life, like having near-instant coffee every morning.

My home was nowhere near any power lines, so I was forced to rely on a large propane tank and generator to keep my appliances going. And by appliances, I meant my kitchen basics, my laptop, a radio, and an electric heating pad. I didn’t have a TV, since no decent signal would reach me this far out, so I had to stick to the internet to get my news and entertainment.

When my daily dose of caffeine was done brewing, I grabbed a mug of it and claimed a spot on my tired old couch.

My cabin was sparsely furnished, with a few basic items in each room. The kitchen had my coffee machine, a toaster, a small fridge, a two-burner stove, and a giant freezer. My bedroom was just part of the living room, tucked around the corner from the kitchen. It had my twin-sized bed shoved against the far wall, a small two-drawer desk under the window, and a tray that served as a bedside table. A sheer green curtain blocked it off from the rest of the living room, giving me a bit of privacy.

The living room itself had my beaten-up couch, a radio, a simple wooden chair, a music stand, a bookshelf packed with sheet music, and a coffee table buried in even more sheet music. Somehow in the last six years, I’d collected over five hundred pieces, ranging from a single page to ten pages each. I’d played each one dozens of times, if not hundreds, and I could play them with or without the sheets in front of me. My old tutors had drilled it into my head that a true master could play any piece on the spot, without the need for sheet music. While it was something I no longer believed, it was still a fun challenge. Once in a while, when Aunt Ellen visited, she would pick out a random piece to see if I could still remember it. I hadn’t failed yet.

At the thought of my aunt, I nearly dropped my mug onto my lap. Shit, I still had to give her the package! I glanced at the bag next to me, only to discover the envelope was nowhere in sight. Where had I put it? I’d left it on my backpack, right? Had it fallen somewhere?

I jumped to my feet and set my mug carelessly on a pile of Disney music sheets, suddenly uncaring if I left a coffee ring on them. I could just copy them down onto a fresh sheet of paper, no problem. I couldn’t, however, replace Ellen’s package!

Suddenly I felt something hard under my foot, and I for a minute I thought my heart would give out. I looked down and lifted my foot, feeling both relieved and terrified when I saw the familiar white envelope. In a flash, I scooped it up and sat down again, my heart racing in my throat. Had I broken it when I stepped on it? Was it still in once piece? What was it? Should I check to make sure it wasn’t busted? Maybe I could fix it? Swallowing terror, I slipped a finger under the flap and ripped part of the envelope open, just enough to get the item out.

A few quick taps, and a small necklace fell from the package to my palm. It was old, a tarnished silver hourglass on an equally dirty chain. The pendant itself was inside a metal loop about as wide and long as my thumb, and there was a metal bar across the middle that allowed it to be spun vertically. The glass chambers were in the shape of mirrored teardrops. A fine red sand rested inside them, glittering faintly in the dreary light of my home.

It was gorgeous. Where had my aunt found such a thing, an antique shop? Then again, she didn’t have any internet access. Had she seen it somewhere? How much had she paid for it? How old was it?

Shoving the questions away for later, I lifted the chain up and over my head. The hourglass rested perfectly just below the dip of my collarbone. It was a strange heaviness that I couldn’t help but like. I felt oddly in control with it on, like I could do just about anything if I just tried. Maybe it was magic? No, magic wasn’t real, even if the pendant seemed to scream it.

It couldn’t hurt to keep it on, just until I had to return it. Right?

I left the necklace around my neck, and brought out my new sheet music. I had plenty of new pieces to try out, and I had until the rain stopped to play around. Leafing through the sheets, I found one of the songs written by The Beatles, Across the Universe. It was an easy piece; three pages of simple notes and a few lyrics. Nothing too fancy. It would be a great warmup. I placed it on my music stand, next to the wooden chair.

With my coffee forgotten, I ducked around my bedroom curtain and yanked a large black case out from under my bed. I flipped the locks on the sides and lifted the cover, smiling softly as I studied the instrument inside. Full-sized and well used, I’d had my cello since junior year of high school. It had been a gift from my tutor at the time, who had helped me win a musical competition the week before. The wood was a deep auburn, though sometimes it looked cherry red in the right light. Four steel wires stretched from the scroll to the bridge on the instrument. I plucked the thinnest one, the “A” string, and a single note rippled through the air. When the house was quiet again, I plucked all four strings. They needed a little tuning.

I shifted my focus to the lid of the case, where the bow was still tucked into its place. I spun the pegs holding it in place and pulled it out gently, careful not to catch it on anything nearby. Several long, pale horsehairs dangled from both ends, having snapped during my last practice session. I still had most of the hairs left, but it wouldn’t be long before I had to send it in to be “re-haired”.

Several minutes later, I was ready to play. The smell of fresh rosin clung to my hands and bow. My blood was practically humming with my need to play, and I couldn’t put it off any longer. I took a seat on the wooden chair, settled the cello between my legs, and drew the bow gently across the strings. The simple notes filled my ears, and I felt wave after wave of goosebumps roll over my skin, making me shiver with delight.

Playing my cello never seemed to get old, even after fifteen years of playing.

Without letting my bow leave the strings, I switched from simple chords to the first measures of “Across the Universe”. A twitch of my finger on the strings gave each note a bit of a warble, turning each sound into an almost sorrowful song. I leaned into each pull and push of my bow, which made the world sway with every short note.

Each time my movements became looser, locks of brown hair fell into my eyes, hiding my sheet music from sight. However, I didn’t stop playing to clear my vision. The chords of the song were simplistic enough, and they began to repeat after the first few measures. I was too far gone into the music to care. I felt like I was flying through the air like a bird, or maybe swimming in water like a fish. I felt truly free.

“Jai guru dava… om…,” I whispered, catching sight of the last lyrics on the page through my hair. “Nothing’s gonna change my world… Nothing’s gonna change my world.”

I lifted the horsehair bow from the strings and sucked in a breath, reveling in the pleasant chills that still climbed my spine. I would never get tired of that feeling. Nothing could top the ecstasy that music gave me. But, like the afterglow of a good romp in bed, it never lasted long.

However, when I came down from my happiness, I didn’t feel the burst of energy I usually felt. Instead, my entire body felt heavy, like it was being weighed down by bricks. My fingers struggled the keep ahold of my bow, and it fell to the floor with a thunderous clatter. I frowned and looked at the offending hand, only to start panicking when I realized my eyes wouldn’t focus.

What the hell was wrong with me? I needed help!

I quickly leaned my cello against the couch before I dropped that as well, then stumbled to my towards my bedroom and my phone. The world blurred around me, and I swallowed the desire to vomit. My senses felt all out of whack, like someone had shoved a blender into my skull and turned it on high. The more I moved around, the colder my limbs felt. The only part of me not freezing slowly was my chest, which seemed to be burning hotter and hotter by the minute. I could feel sweat dripping down my neck and along my spine, turning from warm to cold in a matter of inches.

With more force than I’d intended, I ripped the sheer green curtain from it’s hooks in the ceiling. It floated down onto me, ensnaring me like a fishing net. The fabric felt like a spider’s web on my face and arms, touching me just enough to make me imagine the tiny insects crawling over me. I screamed and threw the curtain away from me, once again making a stumbling dash for my phone.

The moment I held the device in my hand, I felt a tiny fraction of my anxiety slip away. I inhaled slowly, the smell of rosin on my hands calming me down enough to dial. I would be okay. I just needed to call my aunt and ask her to come over.

I fumbled phone’s buttons for a moment, but eventually managed to hit Aunt Ellen’s number on speed dial. I sat down on the floor next to my bed, unable to hold myself up any longer. My knees shook as I tried to draw them under my chin, and they knocked painfully against my jaw. My hearing was so muted that I could’ve sworn I had cottonballs stuffed in them. I swallowed and forced myself to yawn in an attempt to pop them. Nothing worked.

Then, ever so faintly, I heard my aunt answer her phone.

“...gie?”

“Auntie! I-I need some help!” I stammered. Suddenly my chest felt tight, too tight to breathe, and I tried to gulp some air into my lungs. “I d-d-don’t know what’s wr-rong with me!”

I heard her voice a reply, but I couldn’t make out any words. I wheezed and said, “Please just come over! I-I’m scared!”

She was silent for a moment, then said something quietly into the phone. I strained to hear it, but couldn’t focus. My vision was getting even blurrier by the second, and my chest heaved as I tried to get more air.

Then the world went dark, and I lost what remaining senses I had as I passed out.

* * *

When I awoke next, the world was mercifully calm. I couldn’t remember much of the dream I’d had, but I did recall was fog and cold pressure. Now I was awake, and I needed to get up and wait for Aunt Ellen. I was feeling better after that strange anxiety attack, or whatever it had been. I needed to let her know I was okay.

I groggily rolled myself onto my stomach and stretched out my hand, searching blindly for my phone on the floor.

My hand hit stone instead.

I snapped my eyes open at once, and the world abruptly came into a rough focus. I was in some kind of cave. Its walls were made of smooth vertical columns of stone pressed together, just high enough for me to maybe stand in without hitting my head on the ceiling. The cave opening, about ten feet away, was wide open and facing water, allowing for a lovely view of what was probably a sea or ocean, considering the size of the waves. The air was briny and humid, further convincing me I was somewhere near an ocean.

Which was stupid, because Spruce Creek was in the northeast corner of South Dakota. Nowhere near an ocean. The closest thing I had to an ocean was a lake near my cabin, and half the time it was frozen over. Definitely not an ocean.

However, something caught my eye more than the ocean outside. There was something on my face. It was hard to see, but there was something blocking the lower half of my vision that moved with me whichever way I turned my head.

It looked like a…snout?

I reached up to press my hand to it, still uncomprehending, when a clawed hand or paw or something tapped against it instead. I froze, thinking it was a cave creature, but nothing happened. Then, when I twitched the muscles in my arm, the claws twitched as well.

I shrieked.

The resulting sound could’ve shredded eardrums. I tried to cover my mouth, but the strange clawed hands returned and pressed against the snout, which I realized I could feel. I tried to make a noise, but all that came out was a soft chirping and clicking.

Oh god, what the fuck was going on?

Before I could think, I was scrambling to the cave’s opening, the sound of claws scraping against stone filling my ears and making me wince. The water lapping at the entrance was by no means still, but the wet surfaces it left behind still offered a decent reflection.

The sight I was greeted with was beyond confusing.

I came face to face with a dragon. A snout covered in dark grey scales, accented by spots of crimson and silver underneath blue slitted eyes. Two pairs of horns jutted out from the top of the creature’s head, the inner ones no more than stubs compared to the set curving back and upwards. Lips pulled back in a snarl to reveal a row of razor sharp teeth, stark white against the dark scales. A patch of silver scales were clustered over its heart, roughly in the shape of an hourglass.

I raised a hand, and the dragon lifted its own paw at the exact same time. I waggled my fingers, and the reflected claws clacked together.

Holy shit, I was a fucking dragon! I was tiny, about the size of a cat, but I was still a dragon! This had to be a dream!

A quick glance around and I took in my sides, back legs, and tail, all covered in dark grey with the same silver and red patches. I looked like something out of a fairytale! I briefly considered finding a princess to kidnap, but I left the thought just as quickly when I started walking around.

And by walking, I mean I slipped on the wet rocks and fell over.

The pain in my side told me this wasn’t a dream.

This was definitely going to take some getting used to.


	3. Getting the Hang of Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A HUGE thank you to my friend, gloriousporpose, for beta reading!

A couple hours after my discovery, or at least what felt like a couple hours later, I was fairly certain I could walk more than thirty feet without tripping over my claws or my tail. I could also make noises that didn’t hurt my ears, like chirps and clicks and a deep purring that reminded me of a cat. I found I could also breathe a little fire if I tried to belch. I managed to singe the fur off the tail of a nearby fox – or was it a squirrel - though I felt a little bad afterwards.

By the time I got used to trotting, I’d left the shoreline for the forest. My stomach was grumbling, and I needed to find some kind of dinner before it got too dark. Even if I was a dragon, I didn’t want to be out in this weird place once the sun set. And this “being a dragon” thing might not last long. Maybe my condition only lasted until sunset, and then I’d turn back into my dumb human self again, like in Shrek or Swan Lake.

Or maybe I’d turn back into a human if I kissed a prince.

I barked out a laugh and set a nearby bush on fire with a burp, sending all the nearby birds flying.

Please, let me stay a dragon for a little while, this is too cool to give up just yet!

Night fell quickly, and I’d only managed to catch two rabbits during my tromp through the forest. I’d burnt them to a crisp and eaten as much as I could, but eating the poor things had my stomach rolling uncomfortably. I barely ate meat as a human, and I didn’t know what else I could eat as a dragon. It would definitely take some trial and error.

After finishing my questionably cooked meal, I retreated to the oceanside cave I’d woken up in. I curled up near the back, tucking my tail around the front of my body and resting my head on it, avoiding the little spikes on the end. My mind still held a shred of worry about my dreams, but sleep prevailed, and I drifted off to sleep. Perhaps I’d dream of princes that night.

* * *

 

The next morning, I trotted off to explore more of the area surrounding my “lair”. The land itself was more rock than anything, with cliffs that towered at least  sixty feet above my head. The shore had no sand, only pebbles that shifted and settled as you took a step. It was tricky to walk on it with four legs, but I seemed to be getting the hang of it fairly quickly. It was much easier to walk once I reached the trees. The ground was muddy, but I’d expected that with all the rain I’d seen. In fact, the weather during the last two days had gone from drizzle to downpour to thunderstorm and back in the blink of an eye. If that didn’t cause a mudslide or two, then my name wasn’t Maggie.

I encountered a few new creatures during my exploration. There were the rabbits and birds I’d seen yesterday, along with more of the fox creatures. There were also large, fat rams wandering the area, bleating at me fearfully before taking off in the opposite direction. I didn’t chase them. I wasn’t hungry after dinner last night, though eating probably would have been the smart thing to do. I didn’t know how many calories this body required to keep moving, or if breathing fire made me get tired faster.

As I wandered without thinking, I didn’t notice the shadows in the trees following my every step.

The only warning I had was the sound of a snapping twig, and then there was a coarse rope pulled taught around my back left leg. I shrieked in surprise and whirled around on the offending thing, but came face to face with another rope that landed around my neck. I lunged forward without thinking, a desperate attempt to flee, but instead I landed flat on my chest with the rest of my limbs tangled up in the ropes. I felt something heavy land on me, hollering loudly in triumph as it squashed the air from my lungs.

I didn’t need to see them to know they were people.

“Maker’s balls, Thatcher, you actually caught the damn thing! I didn’t think a dragon would go down so easy!”

“This ain’t a dragon, shite for brains, it’s a dragonling.”

A man kneeled down in front of me, grabbing the rope around my mouth and giving it a firm yank. He was a scruffy looking guy, probably in his late forties, with an unkempt beard and his hair thinning and grey at the temples. He looked, and smelled, like he hadn’t had a decent shower in weeks. Where was I that people didn’t feel the need to shower or at least bathe? And why were they not surprised to find a dragon??

The man grinned before looking up at the people sitting on my back. “Thatcher’s right, Lorn, this thing’s too stupid to be more than half a year old.”

Without thinking, I released a rope-stifled screech and tried to breathe fire, only succeeding in singing the roof of my mouth and making my teeth ache. The ropes didn’t budge.

My captors simply laughed at me, except for the man in front of me, who had fallen back on his ass in surprise. Judging from the wet spot on his trousers, there was a good chance he’d pissed himself in the process. I allowed myself to feel a little smug.

And I did, until his booted foot collided with my eye, filling my vision with splotches of light. I shrieked again, shaking my head to try and clear my vision, and felt the same boot slam against my temple, making the world spin like it was in a blender.

I passed out before the boot struck me a third time.

* * *

 

The next few days passed at an agonizing pace.

My asshole captors were called the Blades of Hessarian, and they were the biggest bunch of dickhead hicks I’d ever seen. They were criminals, plain and simple. They all wore leather and fur outfits that looked like they’d been stitched by a child, and the design was atrocious. That wasn’t even touching the issue of their designs. Had any of them even seen modern clothes? And they had weapons! Like, legit iron swords and archery gear that screamed LARP. I was secretly relieved that they didn’t wander near me very often while they were in the camp.

Speaking of which, the camp was a total pigsty. It absolutely reeked of mold and rotting wood, no doubt thanks to the constant rain. It didn’t help that the assholes kept ten barking dogs kenneled in what looked to be a makeshift stable. The air had an overwhelmingly fecal smell to it, and I probably would’ve given up being a dragon just to get out of that mess.

Unlucky me, I just HAD to be stuck right next to them. Iron chains bound my legs to my body tightly, giving me next to no wiggle room. My joints ached fiercely, my stomach rumbled with hunger, and I could feel blood oozing from the cuts near my eye. Every time I made a noise, the dogs nearest me would growl and bare their teeth, only stopping once their masters shouted at them.

I was fed once a day, which consisted of a ram leg or a few foxes, which I consumed without really tasting. It was probably just enough to keep me alive. To be honest, it was a surprise. I’d assumed at first that they were going to kill me and turn me into a trophy, but after a while I figured they were simply going to sell me to someone. Who wouldn’t buy a dragon?? I wondered what kind of Craigslist ad that would look like.

“I found a dragon along the coast of wherever, I’m looking for offers no lower than a million dollars. I take cash only, no checks.”

Yeah, that’s not suspicious at all.

* * *

 

On the fifth day, the camp was buzzing.

Even with my mind distracted by hunger, I could hear the hunters grumbling about a suspicious group of people close by. Did I hear something about an “inquisition”? Why was Monty Python in the area? Was there a traveling theater group in the area? When I heard mutterings about dead scouts, I dropped the idea. Dead people were not good, though that particular band of bastards probably deserved it. But still, dead people. Not good.

I had to get out before shit went down.

Taking care not to alert the dogs next to me, I turned my head away from the stables and began building up a bit of fire in my mouth. It hurt my teeth, but I could feel the chain wrapped around my snout heating up slowly. With enough heat, there was a chance I could loosen the links and slip my mouth free. It was all I could focus on to keep from panicking. Having an anxiety attack right there would just make things worse.

Things were fairly quiet for a while after that, though the mood of the camp was steadily intensifying. Archers had taken up positions on top of the stables, their focus on the gate on the far side of the camp. The ones with swords had said weapons drawn or close at hand, clearly ready for a fight.

At that point, I’d barely melted a single link, and I was at the end of my strength. I definitely had a limit to my fire, and my jaw was sore from trying to work the links apart.

By the time the first shouts of a fight rang out, I was too tired to even move. I rested my head in the grass, purring quietly as the rain soothed the cut on my face, and listened as cries of anguish filled the air. When I closed my eyes and concentrated, I could hear the ocean waves crashing just down the hill. It was soothing, almost lulling me to sleep.

“…is that…?”

“A dragonling, Herald. Barely a few months old, if I had to guess.”

“Why did they have a baby dragon?”

“A lot of rich people in Orlais or Tevinter would leap at the chance to have a tamed dragon for their personal zoo.”

“That’s so awful…”

Something cool touched my face, just under my injured eye, and I let out a quiet whine. Please, just leave me alone. I don’t want to be here anymore. This sucks, I’m hungry, and I’m…I’m hurting less?

I open my eyes and look up, meeting the pitying gaze of a woman. She was Size 4 slender, with tanned olive skin and soft brown hair that curled around daintily pointed ears. Her face was tattooed with swirling green lines below her eyes that seemed to form tree branches. She had her hand positioned over my eye, and a soft white light flowed from it to my injury.

She was an elf.

She was healing me.

With magic.

Holy fuck. 

When she was done, she stepped back and studied the rest of me, looking for more wounds. When she was satisfied, she turned back to the rest of the group and spoke in hushed tones. I took this moment to study the woman’s group.

Aside from her, there was another woman with short black hair and a long scar down her cheek. She had a sword on her belt and a shield on her back, and she wore the most fashionable set of armor I’d ever seen. I mean, that stuff was beyond cool, and it looked extremely well made. She had an accent too, but I couldn’t place it.

The other two were men, one of them another elf with no hair and a crystal-tipped staff strapped to his back. That one had a lovely voice, though his face was a little homely. He gave off a very rustic vibe with his outfit; large stitches, obviously treated leather, and a wolf jawbone necklace. Very hippie chic. 

The last man was…pretty damn short. Maybe four and a half feet tall at the most? He had blond hair tied back in a short tail, and an insane amount of chest hair. He could probably braid it, there was so much hair. He could give a bear a run for its money! He also had a fabulous crossbow on his back that I wanted to do nothing but gaze at.

These people hadn’t killed me yet. Were they going to let me go, or was I still being sold to someone? The thought made me feel sick, and I curled in on myself to take up as little space as possible.

I must have made a noise, because a gentle hand grasped my chin and brought my head back up. It was the elf woman again, and her eyes were full of concern. I chirped at her sadly and nuzzled her palm, trying to roll the chain around my mouth off. She understood my intent and tugged gently on the iron bonds, trying to move them without hurting me. When they wouldn’t budge, she turned to her friends.

“I want to free it. Varric, can you unlock it?”

The short man looked between me and the woman, arching a thick eyebrow. “You want me to free a dragon. A baby dragon, yes, but one that will eventually grow into an enormous man-eater? Or into a High Dragon?”

“Yes, Varric.”

Varric stared at her for another beat, then shrugged and stepped around to my other side, pulling a set of lock picks out of his pocket as he went. I soon heard the sound of metal scraping lightly on metal.

“Herald, I do not think this is the best idea,” the black haired woman stated, her posture clearly becoming defensive. Her hands went to her sword, though she did not draw it just yet. “Varric is correct. We do not know if it is as docile as it seems.”

I clicked at her couple times and huffed, trying to look offended. I heard Varric chuckle next to me.

“I think you insulted it, Seeker.”

“Cassandra, trust me, it won’t hurt us,” the elf woman insisted. “It’s clearly weak, and I’m sure we will come out of this unscathed.”

“And what if it can’t defend itself?” the elf man asked, his tone dark. 

The lady frowned sadly, glancing at me with pity once more in her eyes. I looked between the two of them with narrowing eyes. Was he suggesting they kill me if I was too weak? They would free me, then kill me if I couldn’t walk? I could feel bile rising in my throat, and I struggled to free my limbs from the chains. I heard the sound of snapping metal, followed by Varric cursing next to me.

“Okay, at this point I think it’s obvious that this lizard understands everything we’re saying, so how about we not talk about killing it, hmm?”

“And if it is not?” Solas regarded me with obvious suspicion, his brows furrowing slightly. “How can you be certain it is not simply getting tired of being in chains?”

Varric was silent for a moment, then shuffled around so he was sitting in front of me. He studied me for a minute, and I studied him right back. Then he spoke.

“You understand every word we say, don’t you, pipqueak?”

I nodded.

“Well, my name is Varric. The lady who wants to free you is Lavellan, the lady with the sword is Seeker Cassandra, and the elf man with the stick is Solas, but you can call him Chuckles. Got it?”

I blinked as I matched faces to names, then nodded.

“Now, I want to ask you a question. Who is Cassandra?”

I looked straight at the swordswoman, chirping when our eyes met. The woman was visibly startled by my answer.

“Very good,” Varric said with a nod. “Now, who is Chuckles?”

I looked to the left of Cassandra, nodding my head towards the bald elf, who seemed to accept my answer with a thoughtful hum.

“See? I told you it was smart,” Varric told the others, sounding very smug. He turned back to me and gave me a grin. “Now, I have one more very important question for you.” He held his hands up in front of me. “Are you a male dragon or a female dragon? Look at this hand” - he emphasized his left hand - “if you’re male, and this hand” - he waved his right hand - “if you’re female. Do you understand?”

I immediately nodded and pressed my nose to his right hand. He let out a booming laugh and turned to his friends again.

“Convinced, Cassandra?”

The woman looked less like she wanted to kill me and more like she wanted to ask me some questions of her own. Before she could open her mouth, I chirped at Varric and pressed my hand into his palm, bringing his attention back to the chains still wrapped around me.

“Well, I think our new friend wants to stretch her legs. Still feel like freeing her, Herald?”

Lavellan kneeled down next to Varric, offering her hand to me. I sniffed it and chirped at her, wishing now more than ever that I could just say “Help me out!” She seemed to understand me, and she gave Varric a firm nod.

“Let’s get these chains off her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment or a kudos if you enjoyed reading!


	4. New Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like before, a big thanks to gloriousporpose on tumblr for beta reading!

With my chains gone and my feet under me once more, I relished the freedom these strange new people had given me. The muscles in my arms and legs burned from lack of use, but I was too focused on moving around to notice. I’d come so close to never being free again that everything I experienced suddenly became a joy. I tried to take a small victory in setting the camp’s stables on fire, but the rain quickly put it out. Instead, I settled for pissing on the asshole leader’s corpse and letting out a triumphant shriek. Varric seemed to think I was amusing, so I kept close to him after that.

That is, as close as I could get. Lavellan and her group had said farewell and left a little while after I was back on my feet, so I’d followed them at a distance. As much as I didn’t want to be captured again, I felt like I had the best chance of surviving with them close by.

Lavellan was obviously the leader, with the way Cassandra always deferred to her judgement. She walked with the grace of a deer, as if she were at home in the trees. Her clothes were as well-made as Cassandra’s, though they used more leather and cloth than metal. A quiet confidence filled her voice and gestures, and I found myself admiring her.

She seemed nice, though Varric was definitely the nicest. He had the sort of personality that clicked with everyone who had a sense of humor. He jabbed at Cassandra quite a bit, and I had to admit that seeing her turn pink with frustration was a little funny. I just hoped for Varric’s sake that he knew when to stop egging her on.

Now Cassandra, she seemed the exact opposite of Varric’s personality. She spoke carefully, as if every word was being judged by everyone around her. She seemed closed off, keeping those around her at arm’s length or more. And the way she wielded her sword and shield was both amazing and terrifying! I made sure to keep as much distance between us as possible.

Solas was the only one who didn’t actively join in the conversations. He seemed pleased to simply listen and offer tidbits of information once in a while. He exuded calm and composure, much like Cassandra, but he seemed a bit more mature. He reminded me of an old librarian; someone who knew just about everything, but only gave partial answers. In a word, he was something of an enigma.

Before the sun had begun to set, the group came to a halt in a clearing on the edge of a tree-lined cliff. I watched as Solas built a small campfire while Cassandra and Lavellan pitched two tents close by. Varric hefted his amazing crossbow, saying something to the party before turning and walking in my direction. I let out a tiny peep and scurried away, moving to hide in a bush a few feet away from his path. When he passed me, he chuckled and looked directly at me.

“I can see your tail, pipsqueak.”

My eyes went wide and I looked back at my tail, smacking my snout against the dense brush like a half-wit in the process. So much for hiding.

As I poked my head out from under the leaves, I saw Varric grinning smugly, still standing a few feet away.

“Fancy meeting you here. How about you join us in the camp tonight? I’ve got more questions for you, if you’re willing to answer them.” And with that, he wandered off into the trees, crossbow in hand and curiosity planted in my mind.

More questions from Varric? I could deal with that if it meant I didn’t have to be alone tonight. As much as I liked my cave, I didn’t want to go back there just yet. I liked these people. I wanted to hang around them a bit more.

So I did exactly that. Acting as casually as I possibly could, I trotted into the camp. Cassandra started when she saw me but didn’t say a word, and Lavellan and Solas exchanged knowing looks as they nibbled on what looked like trail rations. I sat down near them and chirped a hello, to which Lavellan returned with a smile. They didn’t offer me any of their food, and I understood why. When you go camping, you don’t normally feed the carnivorous wildlife. That’s just asking for trouble. The bears back home were hungry bastards, and they sometimes wandered into my hometown and root through dumpsters. Although I could easily see Cassandra defending the camp from a bear.

They all chatted while I waited for Varric to return. They seemed to be looking for “a rift” in the area, which was aptly named The Storm Coast. It seemed I had a penchant for living in places with unimaginative names. They also talked about a haven they had to return to soon, a bull they’d been told to find, and a fight between two groups called Templars and Mages. I tried to listen and learn about this weird place I’d been sent to, but it was so boring that began to contemplate turning the campfire into a bonfire. I wondered if this place had marshmallows, or even chocolate. Oh god, a world without chocolate was misery!

I must’ve whined, because Lavellan reached out and stroked my scaly back.

“Are you alright, little one?” she asked.

I twisted my neck and sniffed her hand, which she turned palm-up and offered. She smelled faintly like earth and cedar trees with hints of lilac. I rested my head in her hand and purred, comforted by the familiar scents. It reminded me of the antique shop; old wooden trunks filled with musty clothes, homemade scrapbooks overflowing with sepia tone photos, doilies that had once decorated the tables of old ladies who still made cookies for their grandchildren. It had been my own haven, where I could immerse myself in fantasies of doting grandparents and proud relatives. Where I would let myself believe I lived on a farm as a child with six brothers and a pig named Raoul VII, or that I was the daughter of a widowed bookkeeper trying to find her place in a big city.

How many times had I avoided my own problems by fantasizing? It had gotten better after I’d begun living on my own. There was no one to tell me to snap out of it, no one to demand I wake up and deal with my problems. It was just me, and I had been just fine for the last five years. I didn’t need or want someone nagging me for being a shitty adult. All I wanted was my cello, my tiny cabin in the forest, and the occasional dinner with Aunt Ellen.

I didn’t need anyone to critique my life. 

But now… Now I was caught up in a fantasy I couldn’t wake up from. This place and these people, they couldn’t be real. I mean, I was a dragon! Lavellan and Solas were elves! They had used magic to start a fire! This was the craziest dream I’d ever had, but it was a dream I was having significant trouble waking up from. I didn’t know what else I could do.

Without thinking, I stood up and shuffled into Lavellan’s lap, my tail hanging over one of her legs and I rested my head on her other knee. She seemed surprised by this, and I started purring again to try and reassure her that no, I was not going to hurt her, and yes, I was alright. I guess she understood, since she started gently petting my back.

Before Varric could return and ask his questions, I was out like a light. A very tiny, scaly light.

* * *

 

To say the next day was a whirlwind of action would be one of the biggest understatements in existence. Or at least in my opinion.

I finally understood what a Rift was. Yes, with a capital R.

The group and I encountered one deep in a cave farther inland, hidden from the sun by stone columns like the ones on the beach. At first I’d thought it was a trick of the light, like the sun’s rays passing through a crystal to make a rainbow on the wall. It reminded me of sheer green fabric, twisting in the wind. It was pretty and sparkly, and I liked sparkly things.

But then Lavellan’s hand started glowing the same color, and the damn thing fucking exploded in our faces! It popped with so much force that I toppled from my perch on Varric’s shoulder to the ground, where I stayed stunned for a few seconds. Thank god he noticed I’d fallen. He scooped me up and backed away from the Rift, setting me down on a rock behind him before firing off a bolt from his crossbow, Bianca.

From my new position, I watched the battle. I’d never seen anything like it before. The easiest way to describe it would be to say monsters were attacking us. They appeared as soon as the Rift calmed down a bit, slipping from the green mass like ants from an anthill. The first were the ghosts, green like the Rift but only visible from the waist up. They fell after two bolts from Varric and a bolt of ice from Solas. The next wave’s monsters were masses of red and black goo, roaring as they lunged for the group, only to be deflected and sliced open by Cassandra’s blade.

The ones that messed with me the most were the tall ones. They looked like distorted skeletons with skin pulled tightly over their bones. Their faces were a mishmash of eyes and tentacles and teeth, and they screamed with every attack. When I looked at them, I felt like my heart was going to burst from fear. More than once, I felt like they were looking right at me.

Thank goodness I had my new friends around me. Lavellan and Solas were firing off blasts of fire and ice from their staves, Cassandra was taking off limbs with every swing of her sword, and Varric was peppering the monsters with arrows. They didn’t stand a chance.

When the last of them fell, Lavellan reached out with her glowing hand, as if to grab the Rift, and somehow snapped the thing shut. The sound it made was like a clap of thunder, and I flinched in response. As far as sounds go, that was one I liked the least. It made me feel like I had cotton in my ears.

“You doing okay, pipsqueak?” Varric called back to me. I scrunched up my face and chattered at him angrily, trying to say “That was very unpleasant!” He just laughed and held out a hand, which I climbed onto on my way to his shoulder. He ambled over to the others once I was settled, his expression turning serious. “Was that the last one in the area?”

“I believe so,” Solas murmured. He closed his eyes briefly before looking to Lavellan. “The Fade is much more stable in this area now. We will be able to move on.”

“We should find those mercenaries Ser Aclassi told us about,” Lavellan suggested. “He said they were keeping an eye on some lyrium smugglers in the southern bay.”

“Then we have our next destination,” Cassandra replied.

I looked between the four of them as we set off, my curiosity piqued again. Why were they looking for mercenaries? Were they looking to hire them? Why? Was it because of that fight they mentioned happening between the Templars and Mages? And what was lyrium? Was it valuable? It had to be if it was being smuggled, but why was it valuable? And what was the Fade thing that Solas mentioned? Was that the source of the Rifts? I had so many questions flying through my brain, I barely paid attention to where we were going.

I snapped out of my thoughts when I heard the sound of metal scraping against metal over the roar of the ocean. The group tensed at the noise, and we stayed in the shadows of the forest until we got a better look at the situation.

The first thing that caught my gaze was a large humanoid figure with grey skin and bull horns wielding an enormous greataxe. He had the physique of a superhero lumberjack, but without the stereotypical amount of body hair that came with that kind of title. Instead, his arms and upper back were covered in tattoos, and he was a latticework of scars old and new. And the entire time he fought, he was grinning and letting out great booming laughs. It was one of the most testosterone-heavy moments I’d ever witnessed.

Hot damn, he was fine! If I’d been human at that moment, I would’ve been a hot mess.

When the fight was over and the dust had settled a bit, our group approached. One of the fighters still standing, a cute guy with an undercut, waved to Lavellan and beckoned for us to join the others on the beach. Apparently they were the mercenaries the party was looking to hire. I wasn’t surprised to see that said mercs didn’t have guns or bullet proof vests. Maybe this world didn’t have that kind of technology yet? Then again, this world had magic. It was a notable difference, though something I would have to ponder later. At the moment, I had a giant hunk of man meat to ogle.

As the large man with horns greeted us, I hopped down from Varric’s shoulder and scampered towards him. I was absolutely fascinated. This man – The Iron Bull – wasn’t covered in tattoos, but some kind of paint. I could smell it, an overpowering odor akin to freshly mixed henna dye. Not an unpleasant smell, but still very noticeable. And I still wanted to say hello. 

When I chattered at him, he blinked down at me for a moment, then looked at the others.

“Uh, I’m not being mauled by it, so I assume this ankle biter is yours?” he asked Lavellan bluntly. The elf woman hesitated, glancing at her friends for help. Varric cut in before she could speak.

“Not really. To be honest, we found her yesterday in a bandit camp just north of here, and she hasn’t stopped following us since,” he said. “She’s a smart little thing. Understands every word we say.”

“Oh really?” The Iron Bull grinned at that. “Looks like the Inquisition just got a whole lot more exciting.”

“Well then, Iron Bull,” Lavellan chimed in, offering her hand, “I’d like to formally welcome you and The Chargers to the Inquisition. I hope we work well together.”

The big man chuckled, his enormous hand engulfing hers in a firm handshake. “Let’s kick some ass.”

I watched this scene quietly from my spot on the ground, a mix of excitement and worry rolling through my gut in waves. I really did like these people, and they seemed friendly, but this inquisition thing… I still didn’t understand it. Was it an official army or a rebellion? Who were they fighting against, and why? 

A distant roll of thunder pulled my gaze from The Iron Bull and Lavellan, focusing it instead on the far horizon. The sun had gone, and a heavy rainstorm was rolling in. The waves were cresting higher and crashing harder, spraying us all with salt water and foam. 

And in the distance, circling above a far off island, was a dragon. It was a dark mass against the grey clouds, a looming threat. I could hear its roar, even from where I sat, and it sent chills up and down my spine. I wanted to roar like that, to fly like that, to stake a claim in the world without being challenged.

But to do that, I had to survive.

Maybe it’d be a good idea to join the Inquisition.


	5. Travel and Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am absolutely floored by the amount of support I've gotten for this story so far, it's beyond encouraging! You all are the best readers a writer could ask for! I hope I can continue to entertain you with Maggie's dragon antics.
> 
> Updates will now occur every week on Monday, so you can look forward to that from now on.
> 
> Once again, thank you to gloriousporpose for beta-reading!

Leaving the Storm Coast with the Inquisition hadn’t been as scary as I’d thought it would be. I didn’t do very well when things were unfamiliar, and I’d expected to have a few anxiety attacks before traveling.

Back when I’d been in high school and still been living in my parents’ place, I’d had anxiety attacks a few times a week. The atmosphere there had been toxic to no end, and their strictness had made my life a chore at best. Their love for rules had been part of my reason for leaving.

To say my family was well-off would be the understatement of the year. I came from blood that could supposedly trace their lineage to the throne of England, though we were all several thousand people away from ever ruling. My father had been a big player in New York’s stock exchange, and my mother was a reporter for a high-end fashion magazine. My brothers, Andrew and Logan, were star players at their Ivy League colleges, playing football and lacrosse respectively. I wasn’t as sporty as my siblings, but I was what my teachers had considered a “prodigy” with a cello.

I had been on track for a scholarship to a private musical college when shit had hit the proverbial fan for me, and six months of pure hell had ended with me getting kicked out of my home and onto a plane bound for South Dakota and Aunt Ellen. Just thinking about it made me anxious enough to throw up.

However, a lot of good came from it. When I’d first met Aunt Ellen, I had been expecting someone as cruel as my parents to give me a slap on the cheek and a hard scolding. Instead, Ellen had brought me to her home, wrapped me in a thick quilt, and given me a mug of chamomile tea and a kiss on the forehead. She’d said that I was safe, and that I could do whatever I wanted while I was staying with her. 

I had been seventeen and scared at the time. Now I was twenty-three and still prone to anxiety attacks, but at least I was becoming my own person and not the doll my parents had wanted.

Compared to the trauma my family had caused me, leaving behind the Storm Coast had been a breeze. I’d lived there a week, and half the time I’d thought it was a dream. I still felt like it was a dream, but listening to this group of people talk about their homes and histories and gods made me consider that this was actually happening.

The one thing I couldn’t get past was why I’d turned into a dragon. As we traveled, I tried to recall what I had done just before I’d appeared here. I definitely remembered playing my cello and having an anxiety attack, but after that was one big fuzzy blur. Maybe I’d hit my head or something? Wasn’t that how heroes were brought into other worlds? If I had to guess based on TV and literature, I’d probably been in some kind of traumatic incident.

Of course, I’d never read any books about people freaking out, then falling asleep and waking up in another world as a dragon. I mean, I’d read the Stravaganza novels, but traveling between the worlds in those books had required an item from the other world to be worn or held while one fell asleep. I hadn’t been wearing anything strange… except for Aunt Ellen’s pendant. Had that been the key? What else could have happened though? What was I missing?

“You’re growling again, pipsqueak.”

I raised my head up, looking tiredly at The Iron Bull. From my spot on his broad and uncovered shoulder, it was easy to study his angular features and tough skin. He reminded me of the kind of sculptures art students at my college would have made; perfectly chiseled muscles with some kind of dramatic anatomical change to cause chatter among its audience. Bull’s horns were definitely a “distraction”, though I enjoyed hanging from them when he wasn’t paying attention. He seemed to enjoy it as well, seeing as he laughed every time I squawked at him to look forward so I could climb. The others seemed to enjoy my antics too, and I often caught Varric scribbling things in his journal as we walked.

That journal… If I’d been able to properly grip a quill and write, I would’ve told the others my name already. I also would’ve passed a couple notes to Varric, all of them questions about things I’d heard the others talking about over past campfires. However, my claws were ill suited to holding delicate writing tools, and I’d broken three feathers before Varric had politely asked me to knock it off. 

But honestly, what would happen if I successfully communicated with them?

“You alright there?” Bull asked, half of a smirk still sitting on his face. Was he curious, or worried? I didn’t know him yet, so it was hard to tell. To reply, I butted my head lightly against his cheek and purred, trying to thank him for asking. He laughed and returned his attention to the path, and I returned to my thoughts.

Was there anything I really had to say if I managed to talk to anyone? Would they believe me if I talked about my home? Would they believe me if I told them I’d been human? That I was still human? Or would they write me off as crazy and leave me somewhere out in the wilderness? Or would they just kill me?

The thought had me terrified. I was a dragon, yes, but that didn’t equate to certain survival.

I had to tread very carefully around these people. Keeping my past to myself would be mandatory.

* * *

Our traveling lasted days, and all of it was on foot. I took great enjoyment in riding on my party members’ shoulders when I could, though I sometimes heard muttered comments about me being lazy. That would end my ride, and I’d be forced to use my itty bitty legs to carry myself forward.

Varric, Cassandra, and I were usually assigned to hunting down dinner for the whole group while the others pitched tents and trained, and I liked that just fine. It gave me the chance to practice using my claws and fire, and more than half of our food ended up being slightly roasted before reaching the campfire. I was so damn proud when, six days into our journey, I took down a ram on my own. The thing had tried to charge Varric, and I’d hit it with three blasts of searing fire before it had fallen, its fur charred and smoking and extremely stinky. Still, it’d been delicious once skinned and cooked.

I had to admit, being a dragon was doing wonders for my confidence. Why couldn’t I be a dragon in my world?

* * *

On the seventh day, the sky changed. Instead of its normal blue, it was warped and turning green, the clouds swirling in the direction we were headed in. I could feel static on my scales, and I picked up the habit of chirping nervously whenever I looked at it. That night, I sat next to Lavellan and tugged on her sleeve, cooing and repeatedly pointing at the green sky.

“That’s the Breach, little one,” she said with a solemn expression. “There was an explosion up on the mountain, and the magical backlash tore open the Veil. It is the largest Rift in the world, and the Inquisition is trying to close it.”

I tilted my head when she mentioned the Veil, and she explained that it was what separated the world of the spirits - the Fade - from the world of the living. She spoke of her first encounter with it, and how she found out the magic in her hand could close the smaller Rifts.

It was a terrifying story, and I couldn’t help but offer her some comfort. She couldn’t remember part of her past, just like me. I felt like we could have bonded over that a little bit if I’d been able to share my own stories. However, I kept quiet for personal and obvious reasons. She let me study her left palm for a minute before we ate, but I couldn’t focus on it. It made my chest feel fuzzy.

When it was time to sleep and everyone retreated to their tents, I moved as close to the fire as I could and curled into a ball. I watched the dying embers glow quietly in the darkness, my thoughts slipping to thoughts of dragons. Specifically, the one I’d seen back on the Storm Coast. Bull had called it Vinsormer or something, and had said he’d seen it breathe lightning. A living storm. I’d marveled at that fact, and had immediately tried to zap something myself. I’d succeeded in setting a tree on fire instead.

As I drifted off to sleep that night, I imagined that I could do more than breathe fire. 

* * *

I sat up with a jolt, my heart pounding and a thin sheen of sweat covering my neck. I’d been having a nightmare, but now that I was awake I couldn’t remember any details. I’d been human and running, jumping at shadows and sobbing the whole time.

Sighing, I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to ward off an oncoming headache.

…wait a minute.

My eyes widened when I put my hand in front of my face. My hand! There were no scales, no claws; just soft hands and nails painted with a chipping green polish. I let out a shriek and tumbled off my bed, hitting the carpeted floor with a thump and a groan.

I was human again! I had hands and feet and hair and a regular face!

Had that other world been a dream after all?

As I stood up and dusted myself off, I took note of my surroundings. Yes, this was my cabin. I recognized the wooden walls that still had wallpaper peeling in the corners, the dingey brown carpet that was closer to shag than anything else, and the distinct smell of rosin in the air. The bookcase in the living room still had shelves lined with sheet music and terrible romance novels. My backpack was still next to the couch, and I immediately began looking through it. Even more sheet music, check. Shitty romance novels, check. Laptop, check!

With a huff, I yanked the thin machine out of my bag and set it up on the coffee table. It booted up quickly, the date and time displayed with dark black numbers against the white sand of my hourglass wallpaper. It was early, but definitely the morning after I’d had that anxiety attack and called my aunt. Thedas had really been a dream after all.

Bringing up my iTunes, I turned on some music and headed for the kitchen to find some breakfast. The soothing sound of a cello cover of the Game of Thrones opening theme filled my ears, and I found myself swaying to the melody as I dropped a bagel into the toaster. By the time it was done being burned, my fingers were rapidly tapping against the imaginary fingerboard in my hand as I playing along.

“This is certainly an interesting song.”

The voice was quiet, tiny, as if speaking from the other side of the cabin. I was surprised by it, but quickly dismissed it. I obviously had company! It’d be rude to ignore them.

“I know, right? I love this artist so much! And the song is so soothing,” I replied cheerfully.

“Do you wish you could play like them?” the voice asked, their tone taking on a hint of curiosity.

I laughed and shook my head as I pulled a pair of jeans from the dresser, donning them with a couple quick hops. “Hey, I can play like that already. I’d just need a group.”

The voice hummed, and I could practically imagine the person tapping a finger against their chin. “But if you could have anything, what would you have? Riches? A lover? The perfect life?”

I considered the question carefully, probably a bit more seriously than necessary. If I could have anything… what would it be? Perhaps a life of leisure in Spruce Creek, spending my days playing my cello and living close to Aunt Ellen? Or maybe a fantastic career in the music industry, putting out CD after CD of cello covers and original music? That sounded nice, but it’d get boring after a while. Riches would run out eventually, a lover would leave me, and a perfect life didn’t happen ever. But the idea of finding my own niche in the world, to have a life built upon my own hard work and dedication. That sounded nice.

“I guess… I think I’d like-”

“Do not say another word.”

The new voice startled me more than the first, and I spun around to look at its owner.

Pointy ears, bald head, and clear blue eyes that held an anger sharper than any blade I’d seen.

Solas.

I opened my mouth to ask why he was in my home, but was quickly cut off by a loud and very inhuman shriek. A woman appeared in my livingroom with an explosion of violet smoke, dressed only in a pair of nipple tassels and a silk skirt that barely covered her lower half. A pair of curled horns sprouted from her fiery hair, and her eyes were the color of shining gold.

When did I order a stripper? Was this Aunt Ellen’s idea of a prank?

“Why do you interfere, elf?” the woman demanded, her voice at least three different pitches at once. I grimaced, resisting the urge to cover my ears and scream. “This girl is mine to do with as I please. Leave at once, or I will not hesitate to kill you.”

“Your threats mean nothing to me, demon,” Solas replied gravely. He twitched his hand and his staff appeared, it’s blade shining too brightly in the cabin’s dull lighting. “If anything, you should be the one to leave. Your offers are-”

“Shut the fuck up! Both of you!” I suddenly yelled at them. I blanched when they turned to me, surprise clear on their faces, but I continued talking despite the feeling of dread in my gut. “How about the both of you get the fuck out of my home! You,” I pointed at the she-demon, “are DEFINITELY not welcome in here! How the fuck did you even get in? Get out before I kick you out myself and call the fucking cops!”

She moved towards me slowly, her hand outstretched and grasping for me, but I just grabbed a coffee mug on the table and threw it. It crashed against the woman’s sternum, and she let out a grunt. “Get out, get out, GET OUT!!”

With a howl, the demon disappeared in a flash of light and smoke, leaving only Solas and myself in my tiny cabin. I let out a shaky breath, then turned to the elf. “Now, how the hell did you get into my house? Or do I need to threaten you with a cup too, Solas?”

The man looked at me, confusion clearly written on his face. “You know my name?”

I frowned at him, a headache gaining ground in my temples. “Yes, I know you, now tell me how the hell you got in here!”

“I think the easiest way to explain it would be that this is a dream.”

“…you’re shitting me.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “I wake up in my own home, after a dream that spanned two weeks, and THIS is the dream? I swear to god, Solas, if you’re fucking with me…”

“I assure you, this is a dream. You are in the Fade, and you have expelled a demon from your dreamworld. Well done.” He looked around, his blue eyes settling on my shelves of sheet music. “I must say, this is the strangest dream I have encountered yet. Are you in one of the Circles, or are you an apostate? Though technically all mages are apostates now…”

I watched him for a moment, then turned and plopped down on my couch to stare at the green curtain separating the living room from my bedroom. I didn’t know what was real anymore. What’s a dream and what’s reality? This felt so real. I could smell the forest on Solas, but I could also smell the burnt bagel still sitting in the toaster in the kitchen. I could hear the birds chirping outside my window. And yet…

“This really isn’t real?” I asked quietly, my hands seeking the hourglass around my neck. It jingled quietly as I touched it, and I turned it a couple times to keep myself from panicking. I can’t panic now. I need to breathe. I need to think calm thoughts.

“That is what I said.” In my peripheral, I saw him turn to look at me. “What is your name? I admit, your reaction is not what I expected. You act as if you’ve never been in the Fade before.”

I shook my head numbly, my eyes unfocused. “I only know what Lavellan told me.”

Solas’ eyebrows shot up at her name, and he stepped carefully to my side. “You know myself, as well as Lavellan?” He paused. “Have we met before? I’m afraid I cannot recall seeing your face before.”

“That’s…” I paused, my mind flashing back to my decision back in the other world; my choice to keep my past a secret. I had the chance to tell someone who I was, what had happened to me, and ask all the questions that had been plaguing me since I’d switched forms. If I talked to Solas, would he be able to help me?

Or did I even want help?

I looked down at my hands, studying the lines and calluses that covered them. As a human, I couldn’t breathe fire or tear into my enemies with claws and sharp teeth. My self confidence was highest when I was a dragon; when I didn’t have to be me.

I didn’t want to be me.

“Please go away, Solas.”

I covered my ears, blocking out his words, just before the world spun and went a blinding white.

* * *

I awoke the next morning just before dawn. The fire had died out long ago, its logs no more than charcoal and pale ash. A small puff of air from my nose made them creak and crumble, sending white flakes scattering upwards. They danced above me for a moment before drifting away on the breeze.

Careful not to make too much noise, I uncurled from my sleeping position and stretched out like a cat, squeaking quietly when my joints popped. Looking up, I could still see several stars in the pre-dawn sky. I tried to find similarities to my home’s sky, but I quickly gave up. Of course even the constellations would be different here. Was anything in this world similar to something on Earth?

Did I want to find anything similar? The more I thought about it, the more I realized I liked this world more. This place had magic and dragons and elves! Earth had pollution, war, and student loans. And while I didn’t know much about the politics and customs of this place, I hadn’t seen all that much that I didn’t like.

Except for the killing and the demons. I could’ve lived without that stuff.

I sighed and thought back to my dream. Had I made the right choice in sending Solas away? Should I have told him about myself, or at least told him my name? What would have happened if I’d told him I was the small dragon who was tagging along with the group? Would he have said anything to the others, or would he have kept my secret?

No, I didn’t trust him enough. I’d known him for a week. I’d known all of them for only a week, and even then I didn’t know much. Eavesdropping only worked for so long before it became obvious I was listening. Varric had caught me once listening to Solas and Lavellan talk about his travels, and had given me a light scolding for being so blatant about it. Later, he’s suggested that I take advantage of my small size and hide before listening in. I think I liked him and Bull the most out of everyone.

The sound of voices brought me out of my thoughts, and I turned back to the camp to see everyone taking down tents and handing out breakfast rations.  
Time to go, I thought as I trotted leisurely back towards them. Maybe I could swipe some ram jerky off of Varric again.


	6. Haven part 1

Haven was absolutely nothing like my expectations.

Walking into the snow-covered town, I noticed it was more like a village than anything. The houses were mostly wood with stone supports here and there, and there looked to be absolutely no electricity or power of any sort here. It reminded me of the cabins back home, hidden in the wilderness and cut off from the world. The people we first encountered seemed extremely happy to see Lavellan, but turned wary when they spied Bull and The Chargers.

They went wide-eyed when they saw me. Some children even screamed at the sight of me. I understood why they reacted like that; dragons couldn’t be the kindest creatures in the world, considering that my new “friends” had expected me to attack them when they’d first found me. And yet, it was a kick to the gut I hadn’t been prepared for. I was thankful when Bull scooped me up and hid me in the crook of his burly arm. Bless that man and his beautiful muscles.

From my mostly-hidden perch, I watched as the village changed to a snowy dirt path leading up the mountain, towards the Breach high above. The world was nearly silent, save for a few birds and the sound of a ram bleating in the distance. It reminded me so much of home in the winter, when it would snow five feet in a day and made it look like time had stopped. Some of my good memories of my family took place during the winter, when I was still in elementary school. I remembered eating enormous icicles and building giant forts with Andrew, and watching Logan create snowmen straight out of a Calvin & Hobbes comic. I’d had a particular fondness for the army of tiny snowchildren that stood at about ten inches tall.

The nostalgia left a bitter taste in my mouth, and I looked towards the path ahead. The trees had thinned a bit, and beyond I could see a large fence. A large group of men and women in armor were fighting near a couple rows of tents, though they didn’t seem to be fighting desperately. And since no one was rushing in to help them, I came to the conclusion that they were simply training. I watched them as we passed, making a mental note to stay very far away from them. They had swords, and unless someone told them I was peaceful, they would most likely attack me.

Once we were past the gates of the large fence, I noticed the single-story church just up the hill, surrounded by smaller houses. People dressed in red and white robes with a golden sun stitched onto them milled about, chattering about healing herbs and the latest news out of some oddly-named city. They bowed or nodded to Lavellan as she passed, and I couldn’t help but wonder why. Was it a religious thing, or was it because she had the power to close the Rifts? Ugh! Even more questions!

Before we entered the church, Lavellan turned to the group and lowered her voice.

“I need to talk to my advisors before nightfall, so I trust you all know how to find your lodgings? The Iron Bull, you and the Chargers are free to put up tents near the barracks, if you wish.”

“Thanks, boss, will do.” Bull gave her a half-smile, then looked down at me. “What are you going to do with small and squeaky here?”

Lavellan pursed her lips into a thin white line, conflict clearly written on her face. “I’m…not sure. The soldiers would not take kindly to a dragonling in the camp, but I would feel awful if we turned her out after she came all this way. Perhaps we could keep her hidden?”

“Hidden where?” Varric asked. “You know she’s not going to stay a tiny handful for long, right?”

“I know, Varric, I’m just thinking short-term, until we can tell the people that she can be trusted.” She gnawed on her lip for a bit, then looked at Cassandra. “Are the dungeons beneath the Chantry empty?”

“I believe so, however you should check with Leliana. She may have…guests.”

“Then we may have a place to keep her for now.” The elf turned to me, giving me a smile and holding her arms out for me to jump into. “Will you come with me for a bit? I’d like to show y–erm… I’d like you to meet my advisors. They may have a better idea as to where you could sleep. Do you trust me?”

I nodded and gave Bull a playful headbutt to the bicep, then hopped into her arms. The group dispersed, except for Cassandra, who followed me and Lavellan into the church. It was a small place, but it was warmer than outside, and it felt oddly cozy despite the statues of women holding bowls of fire. I could feel the cold seeping out of my scales, and I purred in the elf’s arms. Being held by The Iron Bull was nice, but Lavellan was softer and smelled cleaner. And she was noticeably less sweaty, which was extremely nice.

We entered the room at the far end of the building, and I lifted my head from Lavellan’s shoulder to look around. It was a sparsely furnished room, with only a couple bookcases and statues against the walls. In the center sat a huge wooden table, its surface covered in an enormous piece of parchment. It was covered in a few small metal figurines.

It was a goddamn map. Jackpot.

When Lavellan made to set me down on the floor, I hopped onto the table instead, careful to avoid putting my claws into the paper. Cassandra gave a surprised shout and moved to remove me from the table, but I chattered at her and narrowed my eyes at her. When she stepped back, I gave her a happy chirp and turned back to the map.

“Is it…reading the map?” she asked Lavellan, who seemed just as surprised. I tuned them out and carefully, watching my claws, stepped around the metal pieces. I could sort of read the flowing writing near each marking, and some of the landmarks were easy to interpret. The dark blue sections were water, the thin blue lines were rivers, and the jagged lines were mountains. There was a dagger thrust into the southern side of the map, and upon closer inspection I saw it was marking the town of Haven. I chattered out of joy and turned to Lavellan, hoping she could see the excitement on my face.

I wasn’t expecting the door to open and a group of people to enter the room. Two of them - a redheaded woman, and a dark-skinned woman dressed in gold silks - simply stared at me for a moment, then looked at Lavellan and Cassandra. The man, however, let out a shout and grabbed the sword at his hip. A bolt of fear tore through me as torchlight reflected off of steel, and I panicked.

As shouts filled the room, I screamed at him and dove under the table. My whole body shook as I pressed myself against one of the table legs, my eyes wide and glued to the man’s boots. I heard Lavellan shouting at him to put his sword away, explaining what I was doing there with them, but I refused to move. If anything, I was going to try and make a dash for the door they’d come through. But there were five sets of boots in my way, and one was trying to move quietly around the table.

“Little one? Are you alright?” The moving pair of boots turned into a pair of knees, then into Lavellan. She kneeled on the floor beside me, offering her unmarked hand. “I’m sorry Ser Cullen scared you. Will you come out so he can meet you and apologize?”

“Apologize?” the man choked. “To a dragon? But it-”

Lavellan shot a dark look towards the man, then turned back to me with a smile. “Ser Cullen doesn’t know how smart you are. Will you come out?”

I watched her carefully for a moment, our gazes locking in the darkness under the table. Her eyes held nothing but concern and hope, and her smile made me feel like I could truly trust her. No, not that I could; I DID trust her.

I shuffled quietly from the table’s shadows to her arms, where she scooped me up and scratched me lightly between my shoulders. Her scent soothed me, and I found I was no longer so mad at this new person. He had been surprised, just like I had been. We’d both acted on instinct, and I couldn’t be mad at that without being mad at myself.

For a moment, we simply watched each other, taking in details. Cullen was not a half-bad looking guy, with his wavy blond hair and scarred lip. He had the kind of eyes that could go from steely anger to “kicked puppy” in seconds, and they were more golden than brown in the torchlight. His outfit was another thing entirely. The armor suited him quite nicely, but the furry shoulder pads… I honestly couldn’t tell if they were pauldrons or a part of his cape, but either way it made him look like an angry bird. Still, he was cute.

He fidgeted as I scrutinized him, then said, “Are you sure it understands us? It’s just staring at me…”

Lavellan looked down at me, smiling, and said, “You understand Ser Cullen, yes?” I nodded, then gave him an approving chirp. “There now, all better. You forgive him for his actions?” I nodded again, and Lavellan continued, “And Ser Cullen, do you forgive the little dragon for her actions?”

“I-I… yes?”

“Good!” Lavellan set me down on the clear edge of the table, then turned to the other women. “Now then, shall we get started? I have a lot to fill you in on, and there’s only so much light left in the day.”

* * *

Their talks lasted for hours. Or at least it felt like hours. With no windows and no sun, it was hard to keep track of the time. I managed to doze off a few times, but always woke up when the subject changed.

I decided shortly after meeting all of Lavellan’s advisors that I liked them. Cullen needed to do some extra credit with me to get my approval of him back up, but the three of them seemed very interested in getting to know me.

Leliana, the redhead, was the spymaster. Her posture was guarded most of the time, though Lavellan and Josephine seemed to break through that mask once in a while. Her eyes were the sharpest things in the room, and I could feel her gaze on me multiple times while I was awake. She didn’t make me feel uncomfortable; just watched.

Josephine, the dark-skinned woman in the gold ruffle dress, was a fountain of political knowledge. She somehow managed to make a feud between two high-class families sound like the most interesting thing in the world. She had charisma to spare, and her accent was fascinating. I was happy to let her scratch my back. I liked her.

When Lavellan told them of how we’d met, their reactions drew my interest. Cullen suggested I was a mage, trapped in the form of a dragon. Josephine thought I could’ve been a lost pet of some noble family, possibly lost during travels through the country. Leliana said I could’ve been either of those, or perhaps a spy in disguise.

I hated how close Cullen’s suggestion was, and what I hated more was that his tone suggested there was a way to change me back. It was an awful thought that left a sour taste in my mouth.

If they tried anything, I was going to bolt, friends or not.

When they were finally done talking, Lavellan brought me down into the lower level of the Chantry. Leliana walked by her side, a pillow tucked under her arm as she walked beside the elf.

“So, Herald, has the little dragon told you her name yet?”

“We haven’t really figured out a way to communicate with her yet. She can answer yes or no questions, but when she ask for her name she goes silent.” And with a damn good reason too.

“Perhaps she cannot remember it? Or maybe she wants a new one?”

…Holy shit, she was handing this opportunity to me on a silver platter. 

I chattered excitedly at Leliana from Lavellan’s arms, surprising both of them. Yes yes yes! I want a new name!

“I think that’s a yes?” Lavellan chuckled, scratching just under my ear. I purred in contentment and nuzzled her hand.

“I believe so. Perhaps you could ponder this tomorrow, and give it to her before you leave for Val Royeaux?”

“That sounds like an excellent idea, Leliana.” Lavellan said as we entered the last door in the hallway. It was a dungeon, no double about it. There were a couple cells lining the walls, each containing a thin cot, wall-mounted shackles, and a metal pot. It didn’t smell too bad in there. It was just a little cold, and I was used to the cold. The only thing I didn’t quiet like was the fact that the cots were stuffed with straw, but hey, I wasn’t going to whine. I was lucky to get this! I could’ve been back on the Storm Coast, sleeping on the cold floor of a cave. Instead, I was inside a kinda-warm church on a bed of straw. It wasn’t luxury, but it was a nice step up.

I clambered up onto one of the cots, in the cell closest to the door, and hopped a couple times. Leliana chuckled and set down the pillow she held, which I immediately curled up on. It was also thin, but combined with the straw cushion underneath, I was content and ready for sleep. I chattered happily at her, stretching my neck out to nuzzle her hand. She gave me a little scratch on the neck, then turned to Lavellan.

“I believe our guest is properly bedded down for the night. Will you be retiring as well?”

Lavellan sighed, her shoulders heaving as if a weight had been lifted. “Oh yes. After that journey, I’m ready for a week’s worth of sleep. Will you have someone wake me in a week or two?”

“Unfortunately, Herald, there are several more potential allies who would like to meet with you. If we wish to act quickly, all I can promise you is a few days of rest. Perhaps three, if Master Dennet’s horses arrive on time.”

“I suppose I can make do with that.” Lavellan sighed and smiled down at me. “We will check on you tomorrow morning. Will you be alright down here?” I nodded vigorously in response. “Alright. Sleep well, little one.”

I watched the two of them walk away and disappear down the hallway, my ears twitching when I heard a far-off door closing with a thud. After a moment of silence, I lowered my head and tucked my nose beneath my talons. Perhaps, if luck was on my side, I would dream of something nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [insert obligatory Dungeons and Dragons joke here]


	7. Haven part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really excited to finally be posting this chapter, so I'm throwing it out a day early! Hopefully you all like it.
> 
> Warning: Some violence in this chapter, but otherwise things are fairly calm.

It didn’t take me long to figure out I was dreaming again.

I was sitting on the dock at my parents’ summer cabin, my legs dangling over the side of the old water-worn platform. I could feel the chill of the lake turning my toes to ice, but I didn’t move away. I just kept swinging my feet, sending ripples along the water’s surface in every direction. The summer breeze was soft and warm, carrying the scent of my mother’s flower garden down from the house.

It was calm here, just like I remembered. Memories of playing with Andrew and Logan bubbled to the surface of my mind, taking me back to my childhood. I could still hear them, shouting at me to throw the football and laughing at me when I tripped in the mud. They hadn’t been the nicest to their youngest sibling, but I’d survived growing up with them. For a time, life had been exciting with them around. Once, I’d looked forward to seeing them during summer and winter vacations, when they’d ditched their college classes to come hang out with me after my high school classes had let out.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a smudge of white and blue on the beach. When I looked, I could see my brothers standing there, looking just like they had five years ago; buff, tanned, and sporty. The only thing different between them was their hairstyle. Logan wore his brown hair long and pulled back in a pony, while Andy had a buzz cut. They waved at me from the end of the dock, grinning and calling for me to come over.

If that had been real, they wouldn’t have been smiling. My real brothers hated me.

As I finished that thought, the fake Andy and Logan disappeared, leaving wisps of light in their places. I looked back to the water, which had turned from crystal blue to a murky brown. The breeze was gone, replaced with a cold chill that traveled up my spine. The scene was falling apart around me.

“I’m dreaming,” I said quietly.

“Yes, you are.”

I looked at the water’s surface and saw Solas’ reflection standing next to me, the crystal at the end of his staff glowing brightly. The water once again became blue, and the warmth of the breeze returned, as if by magic.

“How did you do that?” I asked. Solas’ reflection smiled.

“Forgive me, but I have been watching you dream for a small amount of time. I have restored it so that we may speak in a place you are comfortable in.”

I nodded, sort of understanding. “If the scene had completely fallen apart, would I have woken up?”

“Yes.”

I twisted a lock of my brown hair around my finger absentmindedly. “I’m sorry I kicked you out of my dream last time. I just… I wasn’t feeling well.”

“Understandable,” he replied. “You seemed quite stressed. Forcefully keeping you in a dream would have caused more harm than good.”

I hummed, my eyes drifting from his reflection to the water swirling around my toes. I briefly wondered if keeping someone in a dream would result in them going comatose in the waking world, but the thought drifted away as Solas spoke again.

“If you are feeling better now, I would like to ask you some questions.“

I sighed, patting the boards next to me. “If you sit, you can ask your questions. But if I don’t like them, I reserve the right not to answer.”

“Fair enough.” The boards next to me creaked as Solas sat down, and I took this moment to look at him. He certainly wasn’t a Tolkien elf, but he was handsome in his own way. His nose was long, his cheekbones sharply defined, and his ears were cutely pointed, but his eyes looked so tired. Sharp, but very tired. And the fact that he was bald just made him look even older. How old was he, fifty? He didn’t have enough wrinkles for sixty. Of course, elves could age differently than humans. I didn’t know anything about this world. I could only guess.

“Is there something on my face?”

I flushed bright red, suddenly aware that I’d been caught staring and that he was staring right back at me. I quickly looked down at the lake below us, careful not to look at his reflection. “N-no, just… go ahead with your questions.”

“Thank you. During our last meeting, I had asked if you were part of one of the Circles or an apostate mage. Do you remember?”

“Uh…” I had no idea what the fuck he was talking about. The fuck is a Circle and an apostate mage? I couldn’t do any magic, unless being a dragon that could breathe fire counted. But I couldn’t control that. “Yes, I remember. But I don’t think I’m a mage. I’ve never used magic before.”

“If you are uncomfortable with the question, you needn’t answer it. But even in a dream, I can sense your magic. You are a mage, though your powers are… very new.” He lifted one of my hands from my lap before I could protest, his fingers warm as he studied the lines of my palm. “From what I can tell, you have barely used it. If it is not too personal, may I ask how old you are?”

“I-I’m twenty-three.”

“Magic usually manifests during puberty, however yours seems to have come late in life. Interesting.” He released my hand, which I quickly returned to my lap. My face and ears burned, and I was glad that my hair provided a sort of curtain between us.

“I have another question, if you are still willing to answer.” 

I nodded once, and Solas continued, “What is your name? Forgive my earlier curiosity. I should have asked this first.”

_Shitballs._

I fumbled for words for a minute as my mind raced, trying to come up with something. Maybe telling Solas ONLY my name wouldn’t be so bad. I wouldn’t tell him anything else, of course. I’d just be Maggie, the girl he talks to in dreams. He didn’t have to know I wasn’t from his world, or that I was actually the dragon currently sleeping in Haven’s Chantry dungeon. No, he definitely couldn’t know that.

“Maggie,” I said quietly. “My name is Maggie. And if it’s alright, I’d like to wake up now.”

“Of course. Thank you for speaking with me tonight.” He smiled, then added, “Would you be against speaking again another time? Perhaps I could show you a thing or two about keeping demons away from your dreams.” 

I was so surprised by his smile that I couldn’t help but nod. He stood up, still smiling softly, and offered me a hand. I took it, suddenly aware that the sun was setting on the scene. I turned to Solas, confused, but he simply smiled.

“Wake up.”

* * *

I woke to the silence of Haven’s dungeon. The light from the torches mounted on the stone walls was guttering, a sign that no one had come by to keep them lit. A quick puff of fire from me, and they jumped back to life. It must have been early in the morning. I was tempted to just go back to sleep, but I wasn’t exactly eager to dream if Solas was still hanging around. The man was nice and all, but the dreams with him were too vivid. I didn’t get much rest those nights.

Hopping down from my cot, I trotted to the doorway and into the hall. The torches there were also dim, and I could faintly hear voices from the upper floors. Maybe someone I knew was upstairs, and they could help me find something to eat. My stomach was grumbling lightly, and I had a craving for breakfast. Specifically, meat. Screw the eggs and toast, gimme the bacon and sausage.

I came to a stop a few minutes later, thoroughly lost in the dark passage. I’d passed a sleeping guard a few turns back, but I hadn’t stopped to ask for directions. However, my eyes locked on a slightly-open door to my right. I didn’t need to open the door all the way to know there were books inside; I could smell them from where I stood. Old parchment, ink, and a hint of vanilla. The books in that room were old, probably falling apart, but I didn’t care. I needed information. I wanted information.

Pressing a scaly shoulder to the old wooden door, I shoved it open another inch, enough for me to squeeze through. Inside were several 6-shelf bookcases, all filled to bursting with books, pamphlets, and loose sheets of paper. A table was placed against the far wall between two bookcases, books almost completely covering the surface. I squawked in delight at the sight before me, and hopped up onto the table and studied the nearest book and its title, mindful of my claws. It was too dark to read, but there was a candle next to me that I was able to light with a pinch of fire. The words on the leather-bound spine jumped out at me, much easier to read, and I studied it again.

“The Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of a Chantry Scholar, by Brother Genitivi”

With the candle flickering beside me, I opened up the first book and got to reading.

* * *

Varric found me some time later, still in that book-filled room, with a mostly melted candle and my snout stuck halfway through Brother Genitivi’s book. The material was dry as a desert, but the concepts I managed to understand were beyond fascinating. I couldn’t stop reading, even when the dwarf coughed and tried to get my attention.

“Mornin’, pipsqueak. Find something interesting in here?”

I chirped at him nonchalantly and turned the page, coming to a new section titled “The Sacred Ashes of Andraste”. I only glanced up when Varric joined me at the table and snorted, looking amused by my choice of reading material. I fixed him with a stern look, but he just patted my head.

“Hey, I’m just surprised. You can understand Common, so I suppose I should’ve assumed you could read. I wonder if I could get a story out of this…” He shook his head before picking me up off the table and tucking me under his arm. I shrieked and tried to grab for the table, but we were already out the door and heading down the corridor. “Oh no you don’t, you can’t sit in there all day. You need breakfast, or you’ll eat someone. I know the guard Cullen had watching you is wishing he could have his right about now.”

I thought back to when I’d left the dungeon, and how there’d been a man sitting against the wall just out of sight. He’d been watching me all night? That was mildly creepy. I growled disapprovingly, but decided to deal with that later. My stomach was, in fact, making even more noise than before, earning me a chuckle from Varric. He’d been right; I was ready to eat someone. I needed to be fed or go hunting soon.

When we reached the doors of the Chantry, The Iron Bull was waiting for us, his enormous battleaxe slung over his shoulder and a smug look on his face. Varric passed me to him, and once again I was tucked between Bull’s arm and his lovely abs.

“You sure you can handle hunting with her?” Varric asked Bull. “She’s quite the spitfire when she’s hungry, and judging from the noise her stomach was making, she’s likely to start gnawing on you before you leave the area.”

Bull snorted, replying, “Yeah, we’ll just find her a ram to munch on. The Chargers and I will be back in an hour. Try to keep Cullen from running that poor guard ragged.”

“Tiny, if you want Curly to ease up on his soldiers, you’re better off going through the Herald.” Varric shrugged, then added, “Have you given any thought to a name for Pipsqueak? I’ll admit, I’m partial to keeping it Pipsqueak.”

I narrowed my eyes at Varric and reared my head back to hiss, but Bull just gave me a small squeeze and I wheezed instead. Rude!

“We’ll figure it out eventually. Not like we’ve got much else to do today.” Without waiting for a reply, The Iron Bull turned and headed for the camp’s gates, with me still hidden behind his arm. I waved to Varric, who smiled and raised his hand in reply.

* * *

When Bull finally released me, we had moved out of Haven’s sight, hidden by the trees. Only the footprints we left in the snow gave any indication of our passing.

I hadn’t realized how much I missed snow until I’d sunk up to my stomach in the frigidness. Despite my tough scales, I could feel the cold as easily as an ice bath. It sent chills through my tiny body, and I circled The Iron Bull a couple times before I was a bit warmer. I looked up at him, hoping he’d join me in a little fun, but he was barking at his men to start up their drills. Bleeeegh, they’d done that the whole way to Haven! They could’ve taken a day off to have some fun.

Leaving The Chargers to their self-imposed work, I scurried off into the sparse brush, my ears open for any sign of wildlife.

The world around me was so quiet that I could’ve easily described it as smothering. Even my footsteps were muffled. Everything sounded too far off. I hated it. I’d had music with me for most of my life, and suddenly I didn’t have anything. I was left with only my thoughts and the sounds of nature.

As if on cue, I passed a small clearing filled with animal tracks. A single ram grazed within, nibbling on a patch of grass hidden just below the snow. It was facing away from me; a perfect target. I’d found breakfast.

Before the ram knew what was happening, two fireballs burst against its side, pushing it over and setting its fur ablaze. I rushed from my hiding place, teeth and claws at the ready, and pounced on the bleating creature. I didn’t care about keeping myself clean. I wanted to fucking EAT. I buried my needle-like teeth in its throat, quickly soaking the ram’s coarse white fur with blood and gore. I could feel it wheezing pathetically in my grasp. I put a little more pressure into my bite, and a sickening snap filled the forest air as the beast went limp.

I released my hold on the poor dead creature, watching its blood turn the snow a deep red. The smell of copper filled my nose, and the edge of my vision was tinged red. If I’d been less hungry and more in my right mind, I would’ve freaked out at the carnage, or at least felt bad. However, I was starving, and the meat in front of me was already going cold.

With a concentrated blast of fire, I burned the fur off the corpse and dug into my meal.

I was definitely getting better at being a dragon.

After a good fifteen minutes of eating, I paused the meal and grimaced. Not only was everything within five feet spattered with blood and guts, but I was covered in shredded gore. Disgusting! I quickly rolled around in some clean snow, hoping it would take off most of the gore and some of the now-dried blood. It worked, for the most part, and I gave the ram carcass a long grimace before deciding I was done eating. It was cold now, and there were a few fennec foxes across the clearing, eying the remains. I trotted away, leaving the tiny beasts to their free meal.

I took my sweet-ass time walking back to The Chargers. I felt better than I had since arriving in Haven. All my worries about being in danger had faded away for the moment, and I silently thanked the dragon gods for turning me into such an amazing creature while leaving my mind the same.

My thoughts turned to my reading from that morning. Brother Genivivi or something? Genitivi? Anyway, his book had been like a history textbook, but it was exactly what I’d been itching to get my hands, er, claws on since leaving the coast.

The world I was in was called Thedas, though I wasn’t sure how it was pronounced. Thee-das? Thay-dass? Theh-daz? Fuck it. The world was Thedas, and it had several countries: Ferelden, Orlais, and Tevinter, just to name a few. From yesterday’s stint in the map room, I knew that Haven was in the mountains on the southern continent, which made up the border between Orlais and Ferelden, though I didn’t know which country it was technically a part of. The world had twelve months and four seasons, just like Earth, but they had funky-as-fuck names that I couldn’t recall. If I had the chance, I’d go back and read it again.

The section I wouldn’t read again was the one on major religions. On Earth, I’d considered myself an agnostic. I believed there was probably some kind of force out there that had caused everything, be it a god or chemical reactions, but I didn’t believe in the Bible or any specific religion. I’d had issues enough in my life that I didn’t need to worry about a higher power watching my every move. It hadn’t helped that my parents had been devout Christians and had tried to force their views onto me the moment I could speak.

The major religion here, the “Chant of Light” or whatever, sounded like something that was going to give me a headache in the future. The Maker, a god sitting in the Fade in The Golden City, supposedly spoke to a woman named Andraste, who then proceeded to remake the world one battle at a time with her mortal husband Maferath. And then, of course, Maferath got pissy when his victories were credited to the Maker, and decided to betray his wife and burn her at the stake like a Salem witch. But because she was considered the Bride of the Maker, she ascended to said deity’s side in the Fade and, for some reason, abandoned humanity with the Maker, who apparently wouldn’t return until humanity proved itself worthy.

As far as oddball religions went, the Chant of Light pretty much took the cake. From what I’d read, it was a mountain of words that made humanity sound like a monster that needed to be molded and trained into perfect obedience. There was no room for anyone else in the world, especially if they said anything against the Maker. 

Honestly, it was a subject I was eager to ignore in favor of any other reading material. If I could have asked, I would have requested a book on dragons or maybe something on magic. However, I would have to deal with reading everything in that archive underneath the Chantry.

Picking up the pace, I ran back to the clearing with with the Chargers, who looked to be finishing up their drills. Krem was chatting with The Iron Bull, but threw me a smile when I appeared. Bull turned to see what he was looking at and let out a bellow of a laugh.

“Well shit, it’s like we summoned her! Come on over here, little lady, you’ve got good timing.”

I looked at Bull curiously but ambled over to him, chattering at him loudly when he picked me up with one hand. 

“So last night, The Herald told us you want a name,” he said frankly, “and asked everyone to come up with an idea. Now, being the lazy asshole I am, I haven’t come up with an option yet.”

“Why can’t she stay Pipsqueak?” Krem asked. “It’s cute, and she’ll be tiny for years.”

I hissed at him, clearly stating my obvious displeasure at the nickname.

“Maybe Pissy would be a better one,” Stitches mumbled. 

“Or Sassy,” Dalish added.

I hissed again, fire growing at the back of my throat. They seemed to finally understand my mood, and no one made another smart comment. Bull just laughed, and I puffed out my chest to try and seem larger than I was.

It was then that his eye caught something on me, and his grin widened. One of his meaty fingers loomed in front of me, tapping against my chest.

“How about Herah? It’s practically perfect; you’ve got an hourglass on your chest.”

I looked down at where he was pointing, remembering the small silver shape on my scales where my necklace would have hung. I didn’t quite understand his meaning. Why was it perfect? I cocked my head quizzically, and he chuckled.

“Herah means “Time” in Qunlat.”

Holy shit, it really WAS perfect.

Before I could chirp my approval, he leaned down and stuck his finger in the snow, taking a moment to write:

H E R A H

As I looked at the lines in the snow, a lump lodged in my throat. A million thoughts and emotions flew through my mind, and I didn’t know what to do. I felt like crying and laughing at the same time, and I couldn’t figure out why. Why did I feel so emotional over something as small as a name? Just five letters that meant something in an unknown language. Why did this mean so much to me?

Because it was a second chance for me.

This was an opportunity to live a new life, in a world that was vast and interesting. Here, I could make new choices and find new dreams. It was full of danger and fear, yes, but it had magic and wonders I’d never experienced before. I could leave my past behind and start anew, with people who liked me enough to give me a name and a place to stay.

Pushing aside my thoughts, I brandished a single claw and wrote in the snow:

_I love it_

_Thank you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment/kudos if you liked it!


	8. Haven part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much love, and only seven chapters in! You guys are so nice, and your comments and kudos constantly brighten my day! I wanted to let you guys know how much I love you all, so have the next chapter early! Regular posting will resume on Monday.
> 
> Warning for this chapter: Mentions of past trauma, and also a slight anxiety attack.

After the morning spent with The Chargers, my time in Haven continued to get better and better.

Once those who knew me heard about my new name, I could feel the air between us lighten up. I understood their worry was due to me being a wild animal normally known for its violence, so their smiles were an extremely welcome change. Even Cassandra and Cullen seemed to ease up a bit. 

It was also quite the surprise when The Iron Bull told everyone that I could in fact write in Common. Josephine was more than happy to supply me with a well of ink and a sheet of paper to see me in action. I was a lot clumsier with the ink, and by the time I was done writing a very shaky “Hello!”, my talons were spattered with ink and I’d ripped the poor page six times. Perhaps if I could get a piece of chalk and a large flat rock instead…

Later that same day, I found myself sitting under the table in the War Room, Brother Genitivi’s book open in front of me. Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine were chatting around me, mumbling about a group of rebel mages in the Hinterlands requesting a meeting with Lavellan, who was still content to spend her days resting. 

I was halfway through a chapter on the nomadic elves of Thedas - the Dalish - when Leliana’s voice pulled me from my focus.

“Have you heard the rumors spreading around Haven?” she asked, her tone colored with amusement. “There are some say the Herald has tamed a dragon.”

“I was expecting this,” Josephine groaned. I could hear her quill scratching on paper as she made notes. “Fortunately, I have prepared a few ideas for how to secure this rumor in our favor.”

“This should be interesting,” Cullen muttered.

I closed my book and shuffled out from under the table, hopping up onto the cleared edge and accidentally startling Josephine in the process. She nearly dropped her writing desk, and Cullen’s speedy reflexes saved her from spilling too much ink.

“Oh gracious, I had forgotten you were here, Herah,” she said breathily, giving me a tiny smile. I chattered quietly and bowed my head, trying to convey an apology.

“A bell around her neck might do everyone a world of good.” Cullen chuckled at his own joke, and I flicked my tongue out at him like a snake. The man was cute, but his attempts at humor were terrible at best. If I could’ve introduced him to the raunchy comedy of Earth, I would’ve done it in a heartbeat. Now that shit would get a room laughing. 

“In any case, the issue remains. Officially announcing that the Inquisition has a dragon would invite plenty of attention, and not all of it good. Some will say we are fools for keeping such a fearsome creature close, and that we are inviting danger into our ranks.”

I whined and slumped my shoulders, having thought about this subject myself. Would people always consider me dangerous? I wanted to make friends, not enemies. Of course, that idea in itself was naive.

“We could always have Herah travel with the Herald,” Leliana suggested.

“That is an option,” Josephine said with a nod. “If the Herald were to travel with the dragon rumored to be so dangerous, the whispers would most likely cease entirely.”

“What’s the other option?” Cullen asked.

“We keep Herah a secret until she becomes…more intimidating. Personally, I think we would all be happier with the first option, as it would grant Herah herself some freedom, as well as provide the Herald with another level of protection while she travels.”

I immediately voiced my approval of the idea, my chirps filling the room. Hell yes, I liked the idea! I wanted to get out and see the world! If I could travel, I’d do just about anything! 

The advisors seemed to understand my excitement, and they called in Lavellan to discuss the idea.

Of course, being the kind and caring woman she was, she agreed.

In less than a week, we would leave for Redcliffe.

* * *

The day after everyone agreed I would travel with Lavellan for the foreseeable future, I was allowed to roam the area around Haven’s Chantry without worry. The guards were still watched me wherever I went, but I didn’t make a fuss. They weren’t the only ones watching me. The first time I was allowed out of the church without hiding, the soldiers around me moved to draw their swords. A quick word from Cullen, and they knew – and let the other soldiers know soon after – that I was not to be attacked. Seeing them run off to spread the word sent a thrill of excitement through my tiny body. This was the start of something brand new, and I was both ecstatic and terrified.

However, the idea that I liked the most was being able to move around the camp and watch the Inquisition’s forces up close. I didn’t have to spend my days under the Chantry reading books, despite the fact that it was actually nice to do that. Instead, I could hunker down near the training grounds and watch the recruits practice while Cullen and Cassandra shouted at them to fix their stances. 

And if they were boring or I got under someone’s foot, I could go visit the Inquisition’s newest ally; a raucous little elf that went by the name Sera. She was snarky and hard to understand sometimes because of her accent, but I liked her. She wasn’t immediately afraid of me; just very, very wary. It was like making friends with Josephine all over again. Once Sera got used to me, she was all grins and jokes. I was sincerely happy to have someone like her around. There wasn’t a whole lot of laughter in the camp, but she definitely made things a little more lively. Particularly when a guard or two found pine cones in their boots, or a tent collapsed because of a “weak pole”. If there was an accident in the camp, Sera was conveniently nowhere to be found.

I could also visit The Chargers anytime I wanted, which meant I could ogle Bull’s muscles whenever I felt like it. I mean, who wouldn’t?

The first morning of roaming Haven, I spent a few hours near Bull’s tent, watching him show Krem how to do a proper shield bash. Watching those muscles flex over and over as he knocked the smaller man onto his ass repeatedly was a sight that I would never get over.

God damn, was I a terrible person for liking muscles so much? I reeeeally had it bad for him. I was like a giddy schoolgirl with her first crush, except I couldn’t babble to my friends about how perfect he was. I was stuck sighing and purring whenever Bull wasn’t looking.

Honestly, it was stupid how much I liked the guy. He was crazy smart and had a body you could never get tired of looking at, and his smiles made my insides feel fluttery. I wanted to know more about him. I wanted to get close to him, to have a relationship with him like his and Krem’s, or maybe something a little more affectionate.

If only I’d come here six years ago. It would have saved me a lot of pain and heartbreak.

I’d never been very good at relationships. I had plenty of regrets concerning my life back on Earth, and most of them were relationship-based. You know how stupid kids can get when hormones are flying and you think that your “love” will last forever after a week of dating. I’d let myself get wrapped up in the idea of “love at first sight”, and it had fucked up a lot of things for me. In fact, the reason why my family disliked me was based on that.

But I didn’t want to think about that now. I just wanted to watch Bull lift heavy things while I buried my mistakes in the back of my mind. This was supposed to be a fresh start for me, right? I couldn’t let past decisions haunt me. Not anymore.

* * *

That night, I met Solas in the Fade again.

This time, the scene was one of my darker memories. I was sitting on the bathroom floor in my parents’ house, my head cradled in my hands as I forced myself to take deep breaths. The heated floor was usually warm, but today it just felt like ice against my burning skin. I was a furnace of panic. My life was ending, it had to be. This had to be a cruel joke. There was no way I could talk my way out of this one.

I glared at the tiny stick sitting on the floor between my feet, its single pale pink line mocking me in the too-bright light.

If there was a god out there, it was a sick asshole.

One of the lightbulbs above the mirror flickered before going dark with a pop. I glanced up and saw Solas standing in the doorway, his brow creased with worry. I stared at him for a solid moment before everything finally clicked into place.

Oh for fuck’s sake.

I immediately snatched the test up off the floor and shoved it into the trash bin by the sink. He probably didn’t know what it was, but I didn’t want him seeing it. I didn’t want anyone seeing it. I didn’t even want to see it. I could feel my heart hammering away at my ribs, as if it were trying to escape or explode.

“Why am I dreaming of this, Solas?” I asked as I moved past him and out of the bathroom. My voice cracked on his name, and I sucked in another deep breath despite the speeding pulse closing my throat. I was having an anxiety attack. I needed to calm down. 

Breathe in, count to five. Breathe out, and count to seven.

“It would seem this is an important place to you, or at least a memory you have unknowingly held onto,” he stated, following me as I walked into the room across the hall and shut the door behind us. We were in my old bedroom now, decorated with shades of green and blue. The walls were painted a soft green, but were bare of any posters. A bookcase filled with textbooks and sheet music stood next to my bed, and my cherry red cello sat in the corner on its other side.

I sat down on my bed with a choked sob, hiding my face in my hands. Breathe, Maggie, breathe. “This was one of the worst days of my life. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to remember this! I never want to remember this place again! I want this place to die! I never want to go back!! I didn’t deserve any of this pain!!” 

By the time I stopped talking, I was bordering on screaming, and my cheeks were covered in tears. My whole body felt like it was on fire. I wanted to burn everything in this room, to burn the whole house to the ground. If I could have reduced this memory to bones and ash, I would have done it in an instant.

Solas was silent for a beat, then sat down next to me and softly placed his hand on my heaving back. “I would not presume to know why you dislike this memory, Maggie, however I do know that demons are drawn to powerful emotions, like the ones you are feeling. If you like, I can bring you somewhere else so that you may calm yourself. Would that be alright?”

I sucked in several breaths as I nodded, my hands still covering my hands. I couldn’t bring myself to speak, for fear I would start sobbing all over again. This place, this house, held no happy memories for me anymore. Everything good that had happened here was eclipsed by my mistakes, my teenage blunders, my pure and utter stupidity.

In the span of a heartbeat, the smells and sounds of my childhood home disappeared, replaced by the scent of old papers and rosin. I could hear the sound of birds outside my door, and I felt the softness of the couch beneath me.

I was home.

Or at least, I was dreaming that I was home.

Uncovering my eyes, I saw my shelves of sheet music, my bedroom curtain, and my wobbly coffee table. Everything was exactly the way I remembered it. I could feel myself calming down as I took in the familiar room. Even my cello was there, resting in its case on my bed. The world wasn’t so scary anymore, and I could breathe again. My heartbeat slowed until it was almost normal, and I relaxed into the couch until it settled the rest of the way.

When I was feeling like myself again, I gave Solas a tired smile. Ugh, I probably looked like a mess, but I didn’t linger on it for long. I always looked like shit after an attack.

“Thank you, Solas,” I said meekly. “I barely know you, but you’re helping me… I appreciate it.”

Solas gave me a nod, his expression kind. “It would not be right to abandon you after I agreed to teach you the basics for avoiding demons. If you are feeling better, perhaps we could begin?”

I rubbed my eyes, drying my teary face, and stood up. “That would be nice.”


	9. New Companions

What felt like hours in the Fade turned out to be less than a night in reality, and soon I opened my eyes to the sound of chirping birds and soft snores. Blearily blinking my eyes, I looked around to see I was curled up in bed with Lavellan, who was still sleeping soundly with one of her arms around me. Her house was sparsely decorated with basic furniture, and the walls had a few furs hung up around the room.

The fireplace had died a while ago, but a lick of fire quickly brought it back to life. When it was warm enough, I turned my attention back to Lavellan. She slept peacefully, her left hand twitching occasionally as the mark’s energy shifted, responding to the Breach above us all. I shifted closer to her and purred, warming myself with a little magic of my own. A smile appeared on her lips, and she sighed quietly into her pillow. She tugged me closer, pressing me against her side, and I rested my head on her shoulder as snippets of my dream came back to me.

Solas was a very good teacher. With all his talk of the Fade, you’d think he was at least partially full of hot air, but the man knew a fair amount about magic. He had explained to me how to identify each demon, from their mannerisms to their looks, and how to say no to their offers. He’d also taught me how to tell if I was dreaming or not, and offered a few simple solutions for when I needed to wake up in a hurry.

It was a lot of information to take in, but somehow I’d managed to remember almost all of it upon waking up. I gave myself a mental pat on the back. I was actually getting the hang of things. Now if I could just figure out how to play a cello with claws… Did they even have cellos in Thedas? What kind of music did they have?

While I laid there, pondering silly questions, the sun began to rise and the camp came to life. I could faintly hear Cullen shouting at the recruits down the hill to start their morning drills. The Chargers would be up and halfway through their warm-ups by now. I was tempted to get up and go get my daily eyeful of Bull’s muscles, but the warm bed and happy Lavellan kept me in my spot. I wanted to be lazy again, just for a little bit. Didn’t I deserve a lazy morning?

Apparently not, as someone began knocking at the door. I shot a glare at the menace, silently threatening whoever was knocking with immediate and painful dismemberment if they continued. My threats remained unheard, however, and Leliana poked her head into the house.

“Herald? Are you awake?” she called softly.

I was about to chatter softly at her, but Lavellan lifted her free hand and waved it while grumbling, “No, I’m still sleeping. Come back in an hour. I have a warm dragon and I’m not afraid to use her.” I offered up a chirp then, and went back to purring.

Leliana laughed quietly, but did not leave. “As much as I would hate to upset you or the little one, I’m afraid Madame de Fer will be arriving soon. She will expect you to meet her at Haven’s gates.”

“Is the sun up?” Lavellan asked flatly.

“Yes,” Leliana replied.

“Is there breakfast in the tavern?”

“Of course.”

“…Give me ten minutes to get dressed. I’ll be there soon.”

Leliana seemed to accept this answer, and ducked out of the house before I give her a parting chirp. Lavellan sucked in a deep breath, held it for a moment, then exhaled as she sat up. Her hair, usually a cluster of soft brown curls, was a riot of snarls that were half-glued to her face by drool. She was a mess, but her eyes were as sharp as ever. Clearly she had gotten a good night’s sleep.

Careful not to move me, she rolled off the bed and landed on her feet with cat-like grace. She began to gingerly stretch her arms and legs, letting out soft hums when her joints popped. I half expected her to start doing yoga or some elven equivalent, but she just moved to the trunk at the foot of the bed and pulled out some clean clothes.

By the time she had finished buckling everything into place, I was half-hidden under her blanket, trying to warm myself up again. Ugh, why couldn’t Haven have been on a beach instead of a mountain? There was less demand for blankets on a beach, and food wouldn’t be a problem unless you hated fish.

“Come on, Herah. Time to get up,” Lavellan called softly. I felt her tap my back with a finger, and I chattered grumpily and tried to bury myself deeper under the blanket. “Oh no, da'mi, if I have to get up then you must as well. No exceptions.”

I gave her a pathetic murp, trying to appeal to her better nature, but she just pulled the blanket off me and tucked me under her arm. I tried to wriggle out of her grasp, but she had an iron hold on me that only seemed to tighten. Struggling was pointless, so I resigned myself to my fate and allowed her to carry me to breakfast.

Since gaining my “freedom”, I’d started hanging around the camp’s biggest firepit during breakfast. I still hunted if I was feeling peckish, but I found that the cooked food some of the soldiers passed to me was delicious compared to raw meat. I made an attempt to remember who was giving me food; Matthias and Gerald sometimes gave me a sausage link each, Marian gave me a few pieces of what tasted like ham every morning, and Chantry Sister Fia once gave me a small slice of cheese. I liked those guys a lot, so I tried to keep Sera from playing pranks on them.

Breakfast today consisted of an oatmeal-like sludge with a side of ram flank. Not entirely unpleasant, but I’d definitely be going hunting later. After that, Lavellan and I waited at the stables for our guest to arrive.

When Madame de Fer finally rolled into town, she did it with some serious style. From atop her pure white mare, she was the picture of grace and elegance. She was dressed in a high-collared white and grey robe with silver accents, perfectly offsetting her smooth dark skin. Her hat reminded me of Maleficent’s horns from Sleeping Beauty, whose horns curved gently outwards and back. The staff on her back was as decorated as her headdress, a work of wrought silver and inlaid with black gems.

If only her attitude matched her lovely clothes.

“My dear, what ever were you thinking when you placed your stronghold at the foot of a mountain? Surely there are other places to gather your forces.” She spoke with a near-condescending tone, and I couldn’t help but want to growl at her. She wasn’t the type of person to help others out of the kindness of her heart. She obviously wanted something. Why had Lavellan asked her to join the Inquisition?

“You might not realize, Madame Vivienne, but the Conclave’s explosion caused quite a bit of turmoil in the surrounding area. If there is a better place to put in efforts to rebuild, I do not know of it.” Lavellan offered the woman a hand down from her horse, and I could see from my spot on the ground that the hand hidden behind her back was clenched in a fist. Clearly, she wasn’t too happy with Madame de Fer’s choice of words.

I briefly wondered if the woman would answer to “Boss Ass Bitch” or “Horny”. That would make her drop the pleasantries.

…Sera was starting to rub off on me.

“And… oh my, is this the fearsome dragon I’ve heard so much about?” I turned my gaze back to Vivienne, who was looking down at me with an arched brow and an amused half-smile. “It doesn’t quiet measure up to the rumors, I’m afraid. Perhaps you have another larger dragon hidden away close by? One that is old enough to know the difference between a ram and a nug?”

I narrowed my eyes and growled quietly, ready to set her pretty robes on fire, but Lavellan cut in. “No, Herah is our only dragon ally. And I assure you, she is very intelligent.”

“Though not intelligent enough to know that humans and dragons are not anywhere near allies.”

Oh, fuck her. The bitch was asking for a fireball to the face.

Before I could gather fire in my throat, Lavellan offered her arm to Vivienne. “Now now, I’m sure Herah knows exactly what she’s doing. The world is in danger, and all creatures should feel threatened by the Breach.”

“Hmm, perhaps.” Vivienne gave me a sidelong glance, then turned back to the Herald with a smile. “Now then, would you be a dear and show me where I may store my things? It has been a long journey, and I’m quite exhausted.”

“Of course, Madame.”

“Please, darling, I said you could call me Vivienne.”

“Yes, Vivienne. This way.”

Lavellan led the woman away, and I watched them go with hatred in my eyes and fire on my tongue.

I was all too familiar with women like Vivienne. My parents had had many friends and associates like her; people looking to get ahead in life through barbed compliments and easily manipulated relationships. They were power-hungry, and they were willing to step on anyone to get it. I had been hoping I’d left all that behind on Earth, but that was a naive hope. If there was a form of government or hierarchy, there would be people who wanted to climb it. It was just a fact of life.

By the time I’d calmed down a bit, I could see another new person climbing the path to the camp. When he got a bit closer, the first thing I thought of was “bear”. The man was built thick and stout and had a mess of long brown and grey hair, and he had a beard/mustache combo going on that I’d never seen before. He wore thick padded armor with only a piece of metal plate over the front, and combined with the sword on his belt and shield on his back, the sight of him shouted WARRIOR.

“Maker’s balls. Thought I’d never get here.”

Yep. Definitely a bear of a man. Even his voice was like a bear’s growl. Not quite as rumbly as Bull’s voice, but still fairly deep.

I immediately chirped a greeting to him, mentally smiling when he jumped in surprise. His eyes landed on me in an instant, and his posture became defensive. Instead of feeling threatened, like I had with Cullen, I just sat down in the middle of the road and watched him, my head cocked to the side. He seemed especially bewildered by that, and took a few steps closer.

“If you’re the dragon I’ve heard about, then I’m in the right place.” He paused, glancing around before asking quietly, “This is the Inquisition’s main camp, yes?”

I chirped happily and nodded, puffing out my chest proudly.

The man relaxed a little more at my affirmation, but didn’t move any closer. “Thank the Maker,” he grumbled. He gave me a curious look, his bushy brows quirked slightly, then added, “Is there any chance you could point me in the direction of the Herald of Andraste?”

I shook my head, and hopped to a nearby snowbank to write: DEALING WITH SNOOTY LADY

The bear-man’s eyes widened. “Maker’s breath, you can write. Just when I thought I’d seen everything. A literate dragon.” He muttered a few more profanities under his breath, then asked, “Can you at least point me towards the next in command?”

As far as I knew, Cullen or Cassandra was next in line, and Cullen was the closest.

I chirped and waved for him to follow me, then took off at a leisurely pace towards the barracks. We wound our way around the troops’ tents and over to the commander, who was pinching the bridge of his nose and berating a soldier for dropping his shield. I scurried up to him and tugged on his cape, chattering at him until he looked down.

“Hello, Herah. What seems to be the matter? Did someone step on your tail?”

I pointed a claw towards the bear-man following me, who had stopped a few yards back. Cullen arched an eyebrow, but seemed to understand when he saw what I was pointing at. With a shout to the troops to keep practicing, he stepped over to the man, with me following close behind. “Maker’s blessing, stranger. I am Cullen, commander of the Inquisition’s forces. Who are you, and what can I help you with?”

“I am Warden Blackwall. One of the Inquisition’s scouts approached me in the Hinterlands. Said you wished to speak with me as soon as possible about the disappearance of the Grey Wardens.” Blackwall sighed and shook his head. “I told them I didn’t know anything important. I’ve been out in the hills, trying to gather some recruits for the Wardens.”

“Ten years after the last Blight? A little late to be recruiting, don’t you think?” Cullen chuckled, but Blackwall didn’t seem to find his comment funny.

“Perhaps, but Wardens will always be needed when the next Blight arrives.”

Cullen’s smirk slipped from his face, and he cleared his throat. “O-of course. I meant no insult.”

“None taken,” Blackwall said. My eyes could have been deceiving me, but I could have sworn that I saw the man smirk a smidge behind his mask of facial hair. “Now, if it’s alright, I’d like to discuss what Scout Harding shared with me…”

* * *

When the sun set on this exciting day, and when Madame Vivienne and Warden Blackwall had been given places to bunk for the night, I found myself lingering by the camp gates.

What was I doing? Why, watching The Iron Bull, of course. Were you expecting something else?

The handsome horned bastard was having a grand time, sparring some of the more confident soldiers of the Inquisition. His great bellowing laughter could be heard as clearly as rolling thunder, and I couldn’t help but sigh dreamily as he tossed another soldier out of the makeshift wrestling ring. I was, without a doubt, utterly hooked on watching the scuffle.

A quiet cough had me looking up at Lavellan, who was giving me a knowing smile. I chirped curiously at her, but her smile only widened.

“Looks like you’re smitten, da'mi,” she whispered. I squawked out of embarrassment, following up with a series of what I hoped were draconian curses.

_I wasn’t smitten! I just liked being around the big lug! I liked seeing him smile, hearing him laugh, and watching him flex those glorious biceps…_

When my mind caught up with my train of thought, I stopped chattering and hid my face in my claws.

… _well shit._

Maybe infatuated was a better word for it. I really did like Bull a lot. Being around him made me happier than I’d been in a long time. He had a raunchy sense of humor, he was always gentle when handling me, and his smile made me feel like fireworks were going off in my chest.

Not that I could do anything about it. Being a dragon put a damper on romantic interests. Could I be content to simply be around him? I didn’t really know. And maybe, if fate was kind, I’d get over my feelings for him and move on. It’d be a first, but it would be kinder in the long run.

Before I knew what was happening, Lavellan had scooped me up and hugged me close. “I’m sorry, Herah, I did not mean to make you feel bad.”

The sudden contact surprised me, but I decided that I didn’t mind it. I rested my head on the elf’s shoulder and purred quietly, as if to say It’s okay. I couldn’t see her face, but her posture relaxed a bit and she scratched my back gently.

“Will you keep me company again tonight?” she asked. “I have to admit, you are quite the cuddly heat source.” I let out a approving murp, at which Lavellan laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes, then. Let’s be off, before my poor legs give out from under us.”

Before we disappeared into the depths of the camp, I gave Bull one last look. He had two soldiers sitting on each arm, and he lifted them as if they weighed nothing. He wasn’t even sweating, and he had this stupid grin on his face as they cheered him on.

Oh who was I kidding? I'd never get over him. I'd been doomed the moment I met him.


	10. Redcliffe

Whatever gods ruled over this land, bless them for making horses.

The first two days of our journey to Redcliffe, and I was beyond grateful that I didn’t have to spend a week walking over hills. With Lavellan, Varric, Cassandra and Solas all riding horses, I had several different mounts to choose from. And the horses were less skittish around me now. Spending time with The Chargers near Haven's stables had worked out. As long as I kept my claws to myself and didn’t try to make them into a meal, it was okay to ride them.

It was probably no surprise to anyone, but at this point I was definitely over my aversion to eating bloody and raw meat. I barely tasted it, and I needed to eat a lot of it to keep myself energized. Breathing fire didn’t seem to have an effect on my appetite, but I still ended up exhausted if I used too much at once. Lavellan and Solas got the same way when they’d used up their mana, as the Herald herself had explained to me, but they could drink lyrium potions to give themselves a boost if they needed it.

I’d taken a sip of the strange blue liquid out of curiosity, and had immediately spat it out. It tasted like a Five-Hour Energy with a splash of cherry, but with a distinctly sour aftertaste that stuck around like gum on a shoe. No matter how many times I tried to clean off my tongue with elfroot, the taste wouldn’t leave. Eventually Bull had given me a piece of jerky to distract myself with. By the time I’d finished it, the lyrium’s lingering flavor was bearable.

As we traveled together, we encountered several rifts, all of which we ended up sealing before moving on. Solas said that spirits tended to cluster and weaken the Veil where battles had waged or cities had stood centuries ago. Lavellan seemed fascinated by it, but I just found it a bit creepy. Apparently ghosts were more common here than on Earth. I could only hope that if possessions happened here, they weren’t as scary as the movies I’d seen back home.

Screw movies like The Exorcism. I didn’t need that shit following me here.

Despite my worries about ghosts, we continued to close each rift and make our way towards Redcliffe. Demons proved to be easier and easier to take down, especially once you figured out weaknesses. I avoided the rage demons, since my fire seemed to make them grow stronger. Instead, I kept to toasting the despair demons, who would constantly cast ice spells. 

Without the demons around, the countryside was beautiful, especially at sunset and sunrise. However, it started to get… tedious. It all blurred together after a while, especially since I’d seen most of it after leaving the Storm Coast. Did Ferelden not have any denser forests? Or maybe a desert? Heck, I'd take a swamp!

It took three long days on horseback, and everyone was feeling achy by the end of it, but we managed to get through the village gate without finding another rift. Thank goodness. I was about ready to set the entire area on fire. If I saw one more rift today, I’d set myself ablaze and back-flip all the way back to Haven.

Fuck. The. Rifts.

Redcliffe itself wasn’t much to look at. It reminded me a lot of Haven; dull colors, people who dressed like they were going to a less-flamboyant Renaissance Festival, and livestock. Oh, and people complaining about the Breach. The only things it was missing was snow and a hole in the sky floating overhead. Not that I’d wish the Breach on this small village. The people looked positively haggard, like they hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks. I felt a twinge of pity for them. What kind of mayor or town leader would let their people suffer this much? 

“Grand Enchanter Fiona said to meet her at the tavern,” Lavellan murmured to our companions, her lips barely moving as we passed by a group of Chantry sisters. “Do you think she really wants to join us?”

“I believe the Grand Enchanter was sincere in her desire to ally with the Inquisition,” Solas replied. “If not, she is a very talented liar.”

“She may think the mage rebellion has a better chance of success by standing with the Inquisition,” Cassandra added. “Though it does not help them with hiding from the Templars…”

“I know a mage or two who could give her some sound advice on hiding,” Varric chuckled. Cassandra narrowed her eyes at him, but made no comment.

We reached the tavern and dismounted from our horses, and I hopped from Lavellan’s mount to her shoulder, where I chattered quietly until she gave me a gentle pat on the head. So many new allies in such a short amount of time! I was going to have trouble remembering all the names.

As we entered the tavern, I resisted the urge to gag. The building smelled like old alcohol and straw with a hint of body odor and possibly urine. It was also dark as heck, despite the candles and flickering torches on the walls. I would have turned and left on my own had a woman not stepped forward and greeted Lavellan. She was of average height with short dark hair and caution in her eyes, and her pointed ears marked her as an elf.

“Greetings, agents of the Inquisition,” she said, nodding her head in what seemed like respect. “What has brought you to Redcliffe?”

Lavellan stiffened slightly under my paws, replying, “You invited us here when we met in Val Royeaux, don’t you remember?”

The woman paused. “Val Royeaux? I haven’t been there since before the Conclave.”

I looked at Lavellan, who was clearly confused, then narrowed my eyes at the woman before us. What was going on? I hadn’t been with the Inquisition in Val whatever, but I knew a contradiction when I heard one.

The problem was, who was wrong?

“Well, whoever…whatever brought you here, the situation has changed,” Fiona said quickly. Her expression was pinched, but the look of defeat in her eyes was plain as day. “The free mages have already pledged themselves to the service of the Tevinter Imperium.”

I only knew a little about Tevinter from reading Brother Genitivi’s book back in Haven, but I knew enough to realize she’d basically said she’d sold herself into slavery. Even in this crazy world of magic and dragons, there was slavery. Of course.

I growled lowly and flexed my claws, stopping only when Lavellan shushed me.

“Alright, Fiona, then who is in charge here?”

The tavern door opened with a thud, and we all turned to see two men enter the tavern. Fiona introduced the older man as Magister Gereon Alexius, and he was dressed in the most ridiculous cape and hood I’d ever seen. It looked like he was trying to imitate an elf’s ears, but the fabric was far too thick definitely the wrong color. I wondered if Lavellan or Solas would help me set it on fire.

“The southern mages are under my command. And you are the survivor, yes?” he asked Lavellan, his eyes narrowing as a smile pulled at his thin lips. “The one from the Fade? Interesting.”

Oh my god, creeper alert. The look he was giving the Lavellan was beyond gross, and his wrinkly old face just made it worse.

“So when exactly did you negotiate this alliance with Fiona?” she asked, her voice calm despite the tension in her shoulders. 

“When the Conclave was destroyed, these poor souls faced the brutality of the Templars, who rushed to attack them.” He turned and gave Fiona a look I couldn’t see, but Fiona’s eyes took on a spark of suspicion. “It could only be through divine providence that I arrived when I did.”

“It was certainly… very timely,” the elf replied warily.

As Lavellan continued to ask questions, I began thinking about the possibilities of what was going on. Alexius was definitely not the type of guy you could trust at any distance, and his savior-like attitude towards Fiona and the mages irked me. Fiona herself seemed to be put off by him. Why had she done such a thing if she had spoken to the Inquisition? And why didn’t she remember meeting Lavellan? Had they actually met, or had it been someone in disguise? It seemed more likely that the Inquisition had met with an impostor. Magic could do that right? Change your form to whatever you chose? I'd assumed that was what had happened to me.

I returned my attention to the conversation when Lavellan sat down at a nearby table with Alexius, ready to negotiate. When they were settled, the man who had entered the building with Alexius stepped forward at the magister’s beckoning.

“Ah, pardon my manners. This is my son, Felix,” Alexius said, giving the man what could maybe be seen as an affectionate smile. Felix bowed, then turned and beckoned another young man come over. Alexius continued with his earlier talk.

“Closing the Breach is certainly no easy task. I’m sure-”

Before Alexius could continue, Felix turned back to the table, his gaze unfocused as he fell to one knee and wheezed. Lavellan jumped up and helped him get to his feet again, but he wobbled unstably.

“Felix!” Alesius cried, rushing to his son’s side. “Are you alright?!”

“I-I’m alright,” Felix stammered, though he was definitely not alright. His skin was a shade paler, and he was still having trouble standing. I could see his knees shaking from my spot on Lavellan's shoulder.

Alexius rushed over and took his son in one arm, pulling him from Lavellan. “Come, son, I’ll get your powders.” He turned his head as he walked away, calling out, “Please forgive me, friends. We will have to continue this another time.”

And with that, the magister and his son were gone.

Frankly, I was both glad and worried. Alexius was a dick, that much was easy to see, so I was glad to be rid of him, but Felix… The poor man had looked so sick. How does one manage to get such dark circles under their eyes? If only they had modern medicine in this world; a dose of something powerful enough could have helped him.

I turned to nuzzle Lavellan's cheek, but she was focused on something in her hand. A piece of paper with a few words scribbled on it.

_COME TO THE CHANTRY. YOU ARE IN DANGER._

Well that wasn’t ominous. Not at all.

* * *

Much to my dismay, there turned out to be a rift inside the Chantry. A rather odd one, to be specific, but still a rip in the Veil all the same.

It looked like I’d be backflipping my way back to Haven. On fire.

Me and my big mouth.

The battle itself wasn’t too difficult. Closing rifts in the Hinterlands with Lavellan had helped me hone my skills a bit, and I could breathe a little more fire for a little longer each time I scorched a demon. There weren’t too many demons in this fight, however. The man who was already in the Chantry seemed to have taken out most of them by himself, and he’d simply been hitting them with his staff when we’d walked in!

When the last demon fell and the rift was sealed, the man looked at the five of us and smiled. “Fascinating. How does that work, exactly?” he asked. His voice had a rumble to it that made me think of finely aged bourbon, and he carried himself like one of my mother's fashion designer friends, the ones who drank wine like water at dinner and spoke like their opinions were gospel. Would he turn out to be the same as them? I hoped not.

Before Lavellan could answer, he chuckled and added, “You don’t even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers, and boom! Rift closes.”

“And who are you?” Lavellan asked, arching an eyebrow at him. From my spot on the floor, I watched him closely. I was ready to set him on fire if he proved to be like Alexius, though I still wish I’d set that man on fire too. So many missed opportunities…

“Ah, yes. Dorian of House Pavus. Most recently, of Minrathous. How do you do?” He gave an elegant bow as Cassandra scowled.

“Another Tevinter,” she said. “Be cautious with this one.”

At the mention of Tevinter, I growled and gathered fire in my throat, ready to fight. Dorian gave me a curious look and took a small step away from me.

“Suspicious friends you have here.”

“Herah, be calm. Let’s hear him out before we roast him,” Lavellan said quietly. I rolled my eyes and blasted a group of nearby candles, releasing the pent-up magic and turning the wax pieces into a puddle of red goo.

“Right then,” Dorian said with a small shudder. “Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance should be most valuable.”

“Were you the one who sent the note?” the Herald asked.

“Yes. Felix should be joining us as well, once he ditches his father.” Dorian sighed as he glanced at the doors around us, clearly expecting the man to show up any minute.

“Is he ill? His father couldn’t get to his side fast enough when he pretended to be faint.”

As Lavellan spoke, I couldn’t help but compare Earth’s technology to Thedas’ own inventions. There were so many things yet to be created here, it was like I was looking at a history book. Did they have sewing machines here? What about musical instruments? Did the people here have better medicines, or was it just powders and herbs made into “potions”? There were so many things that could be improved upon, it was difficult not to start drawing things out in a DaVinci-esque style.

“To reach Redcliffe before the Inquisition, Alexius distorted time itself.” I looked up sharply at Dorian, who jumped slightly when my gazed zeroed in on him. “Ah, your charming little creature there isn’t going to try and attack me again, is it? I’d rather not ruin this outfit. I only brought so much with me from Tevinter…”

“Herah,” Lavellan warned, leaning down to place a hand on top of my head, “be kind to Dorian. He’s trying to help us.” I grumbled a bit but kept silent after that, resigning myself to sticking my tongue out at the mustached mage. Lavellan gave a light laugh, then said, “Please continue, Dorian. Why would Alexius “distort time” just to get here before me?”

Dorian arched an eyebrow, but continued talking about the rift within the Chantry having time-distorting attributes. I hadn’t noticed them, but apparently both Solas and Lavellan had sensed it. I chalked it up to elven abilities, and continued to listen. Dorian had apparently developed this magic himself, alongside Alexius, but he didn’t understand why the magister would do it.

“He didn’t do it for the mages.”

The group turned to the eastern doorway as Felix entered, looking a little tired but otherwise fine.

Dorian smirked at his friend, glad to finally see him appear. “Took you long enough! Is he getting suspicious?”

“No, but I shouldn’t have played the sickness card. I thought he’d never stop fussing over me.” Felix turned to Lavellan, his expression grave. “My father has joined a cult. Tevinter supremacists called the Venatori. And I can tell you one thing: whatever my father’s done for them, he’s done it to get to you.”

Lavellan raised a delicate eyebrow. “To get to me? An interesting tactic, but why would they want to get to me?”

“Perhaps because you can close the rifts?” Dorian suggested. “Or maybe it’s simply because you survived the Temple of Sacred Ashes?”

“Well whatever the reason is, we need to stop them from ripping the Veil even more,” Lavellan replied. “Any suggestions?”

“He said he would be willing to meet again for negotiations. Perhaps returning to Haven until then would be our best option,” Cassandra said.

“For the time being, there is not much else we can do,” Solas added.

“Whatever you decide to do, I want to be there when you deal with him,” Dorian insisted, his expression the picture of determination. He turned on his heel and headed for the back of the church, calling back, “I’ll be in touch. And Felix? Try not to die.”

“There are worse things than dying, Dorian,” Felix said quietly, but Dorian was already gone, the door swinging closed behind him.

I could help but feel a rush of sympathy for Felix. His father was being an awful prick, yet he stood by the man’s side and wanted to make him see the error of his ways. I thought that was commendably, and very honorable. He hadn’t abandoned his family yet. Deep in my heart, I wished my brothers had done the same thing for me when I’d needed them most. Instead of defending me, they’d ignored me and acted as if I hadn’t existed.

If this whole situation worked out for the best, I wouldn’t let Felix come to harm. He was a good person, and he deserved a chance to try and make things right again. And I wanted the chance to be better than my brothers. I would defend those who needed it most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to leave a comment or a kudos if you enjoyed the chapter!


	11. Dinner with Bull

Trust me when I say that traveling in Ferelden, even with horses, was boring as fuck.

Thanks to Dorian and Felix's little stunt in the tavern, we were stuck waiting for Alexius to contact us to get the mages and seal the Breach. Yes, we had been in danger, but spending four days on horseback with a dwarf, two elves, and a human was starting to get tiresome. Where was the quick-travel button? Did the mages here have teleportation magic? Was that a thing??

What a time to be a tiny dragon with no wings.

Once again, I spent the majority of the trip nestled in Lavellan's lap, which was quickly turning into one of my favorite places. She seemed to be more exhausted than the others, so I was able to provide her with some comfort while being comfortable myself.

But like always, all trips had to come to an end. We reached Haven in four days, galloping through the camp's gates in a rush to make it before nightfall. Varric retired to the tavern for the night, saying something about needing a few dozen drinks before hitting the sack that night. Solas excused himself quietly, requesting to spend the remainder of the evening meditating. Lavellan and Cassandra, with myself in tow, headed for the war room to debrief the advisors on what exactly had happened in Redcliffe.

It turned out, we needn't have rushed.

Leliana greeted us when we entered the room, an unsealed letter sitting on the table with a dagger sticking up from one of the corners. The handwriting was neat and elegant, but almost too small to be able to read. It gave me a headache just to look at. Cullen and Josephine entered the room shortly after that, both looking quite tense.

“A letter from Magister Alexius arrived not too long ago,” the spymaster said, her voice containing a hint of mirth. “He would like to meet you again in a few days, to finish negotiations.”

“Obviously it's a trap,” Cullen said shortly, crossing his arms over his armored chest. “The man has requested the Herald by name. And only her. Attending such a meeting would be lunacy.”

Josephine turned to Cullen, her eyes narrowed slightly. “It would not be wise, but what choice do we have? By Tevinter rights, Alexius owns the rebel mages for the next ten years.”

“By tricking them with magic!” he spat, his cheeks flushing as his anger spiked.

“Nevertheless,” Josie said softly, “they are indentured to him. If we intend to use mages to seal the Breach, we will have to negotiate with the man, no matter how conniving and underhanded he is.”

“It is not too late to recruit the Templars, Herald,” Cassandra offered.

Cullen nodded, seeming much more supportive of that idea. “Therinfal Redoubt is farther away, but it is still an option.”

“An option that would leave a very powerful foe on our doorstep,” Leliana warned. “We cannot simply ignore the man while he sits four days from our headquarters. We would be inviting an attack.”

Lavellan, who was still holding me, sighed and looked tiredly at the map. “It seems like we have no choice in the matter. We need to make a deal with Alexius. We can't let him have the mages.”

“It would be suicide to go in there without any troops.” Cullen said through gritted teeth. He massaged his temples with a gloved hand, the picture of annoyed. “We cannot send you in there alone. I won't allow it.”

“Then is there another way into the castle? A sewer, a tunnel, a grate? Something?” the elf asked, her fingers stilling on my back. I looked up at her, and saw frustration in her eyes. Cullen was not helping with his attitude. He was trying to protect her, but it was coming off as almost suffocating.

Then again, I wouldn't want her going in alone either. But Leliana was right; leaving Alexius alone in Redcliffe with the mages was not a good idea. He needed to be dealt with, through negotiations or force, if necessary.

“Actually,” Leliana said, “there is a secret passage. It was used during the Fifth Blight by the Grey Wardens. We could send in a small group of scouts in that way and take out as many of Alexius' forces as possible.”

“More likely your scouts would get killed before the talks began. It's far too risky,” Cullen said stubbornly. I resisted the urge to groan and cover my eyes. Oh my god, why couldn't we just agree on something already? I was getting tired and this conversation was going nowhere!

“Enough!” Lavellan shouted, slamming her free hand down onto the table. Everyone stopped arguing, turning to face her with surprised expressions. Heck, even I was surprised! Lavellan was usually so soft spoken and kind, not to mention willing to hear out each side before making a decision. This had to have been stressful for her. She continued, “We cannot stand here all night and bicker about this. If we have a way to get soldiers or scouts into the castle, then I say we stick to the original plan and get ourselves some mages!”

As she spoke, the war room door burst open and Dorian strolled in, his head held high as he spoke. “Ah, and just when I was starting to enjoy the circular arguments.” He stepped up to Lavellan's free side and gave us all a charming smile. “I can get you past Alexius' magics. It will be difficult to get more than a few people past it, but it is possible. And Felix will do what he can to support you when you're inside.”

“Thank you, Dorian,” Lavellan said, her posture relaxing noticeably as she spoke. “We would be glad for your help, and Felix's. Tomorrow, we will leave for Redcliffe. And hopefully return with the mages.”

 

* * *

With the Mage Vs. Templar debate finally done for the night, Lavellan retired to her hut to sleep the night away, leaving the rest of us to our nightly routines. Josephine left with Dorian, eager to show him where he could spend the night, Leliana left for her tent, while Cullen quietly spoke to Cassandra outside the war room.

I could have gone to bed with Lavellan, but I wasn't sleepy enough yet. I wanted to stay up for a little longer, maybe have a little fun with Sera in the tavern. My stomach gave out a quiet gurgle at the thought of the tavern's food, and I was trotting out into the cold snow before I realized it.

Tonight's weather was biting cold, small flurries of snow drifting across the open land like clouds pulled directly from the sky. The wind was harsh, but the trek to the tavern wasn't far. I took a shortcut past Leliana's tent, not through it, and dropped down a stone wall onto the building's doorstep. I even managed to duck between a recruit's legs as they entered the tavern - without tripping them, I might add – though they yelped when they noticed me. I ignored them and took a running leap at the bar.

The moment my claws hit the wooden counter, the tavern's owner bustled out of the back room, her arms filled with empty flagons. Flissa was her name, and she was a buxom woman in her late thirties, with hair the color of dark copper and brown eyes that glinted when there was a new piece of gossip making rounds in the camp. She had come from Denerim, the capital of Ferelden, at Leliana's request, and had found a second home in Haven. I liked her a lot, and her cooking was more than worth the time it took to prepare.

As she shoved flagon after flagon under the barrels behind the counter, she tossed me a smile over her shoulder. “Well well, if it isn't the Inquisition's fiercest little fireball. How are you faring tonight, Herah?”

She couldn't understand dragon, or whatever my language was, but she seemed to understand me when I made specific sounds. I cooed at her, my tone slow and sleepy-sounding, and let out a squeaky yawn. She clicked her tongue as she brought two flagons to the bar and shoved them at a waiting recruit before reaching below the counter and retrieving a small wooden bowl.

“Tell me about it, dear, I've been dealing with drunk soldiers since you and the Herald returned. I wouldn't mind a drink and a good night's sleep myself.” She leaned forward on the bar, her ample cleavage on display as she offered me the bowl. Inside was a pile of thick-sliced ram meat, chopped veggies, and a warm broth that smelled like mulled spices and peppers.

I didn't drink as a dragon, I hadn't been much of a drinker as a human to begin with, but I was rapidly becoming a fan of Flissa's cooking. She didn't overcook the meat or veggies, and she only made her best dishes when the ingredients in the camp's larder were close to going bad or when there was a fresh shipment of supplies to make room for. Her spicy ram stew was a hit among the soldiers, and had easily become one of my favorite foods.

Then again, I liked anything with meat.

I dug into the meal before me with fervor, stabbing the chunks of carrots and potatoes with my claws before devouring them in huge bites. The meat was saved for last, to be ripped into shreds like paper and eaten piece by piece. The dish's seasonings were spicy but comforting, reminding me of Aunt Ellen's homemade beef stew; a medley of sharp flavors that left a lingering heat in your belly.

Home-cooked meals were among the few things I missed about Spruce Creek. I missed my cello, good food, and Aunt Ellen. I also missed cars, but I was getting used to riding horses and running around on four legs. There were a lot of things I was getting used to in this world.

Before I could take a bite of my delicious collection of meat, I was scooped off the counter by a big meaty hand. I squawked at the sudden motion, ready to flail at my attacker, but stopped when I realized it was The Iron Bull holding me. He just grinned down at me, his good eye glinting in the light of the tavern's fire.

“Look who I found. It's my favorite little dragonling.”

I squeaked and hid my face in my claws, my mind going absolutely haywire at the casual comment. Me? Bull's favorite?? It was probably stupid to react like that, but I couldn't help it! Bull's smile was one of my biggest weaknesses.

He dropped me on his shoulder as he grabbed my food and ordered a pint of ale from Flissa, then moved to sit at a nearby table against the wall. I'd missed him a lot during my trip to Redcliffe, and I was more than happy to spend some time with him. Last time I'd talked to him, he'd told me a little about Seheron and the fighting there. I was hoping this time I could learn a little more about him, or maybe listen to him talk about the other countries of Thedas.

When he sat down and placed my bowl of meat on the table in front of me, he put his feet up on the chair next to him and asked, “So, how was Redcliffe?”

I glanced up at Bull, a piece of meat halfway to my mouth. His expression was relaxed, but there was something about his posture that read as tense. Rumors about the Tevinter magister in Ferelden had to have spread quickly. I just hadn't realized word would reach Haven in a matter of days. Then again, he was technically a spy. He'd probably known about Redcliffe ages ago.

Using the stew's broth as a sort of ink, I dipped my claw into my bowl and began placing droplets on the table's counter, connecting them with watery lines until they spelled out:

NOT GOOD. VERY UNHAPPY.

Bull nodded knowingly as he drew a finger through my words, smearing them out of existence. “Well, I can't say I'm surprised. I have intel that says Arl Eamon was kicked out of his castle a week ago and that his son Connor was indentured. At this rate, I'm half expecting the undead to rise again and attack the village.”

I grimaced at his mention of the walking corpses. During one snowy evening, Lavellan had shared the story of the Hero of Ferelden with me. Sitting on her bed, she'd told me about how he had stopped the Fifth Blight almost ten years ago, and how he had later disappeared with a Witch of the Wilds. Part of their journey had taken them to Redcliffe, where they'd fought against hordes of the undead to free the castle from the hold of an abomination. The story sounded absolutely bonkers, but it had been completely true. Leliana had been there to see it, and confirmed the story when I'd asked her the next day.

This world was getting crazier and crazier by the day.

However, I was content to eat my food and ask The Bull every question that popped into my tiny head. So, using the connect-the-water-droplets method of writing, I asked him about the qunari. He arched an eyebrow and sipped his ale.

“More questions? You writing a book or something?”

I squawked indignantly, stomping my tiny feet on the table and nearly knocking over my food. He laughed and gave me a shrug. “Alright, what do you want to know?”

Instead of wasting the rest of my stew by writing on the table, I grabbed his hand resting on the table and began writing out letters on his palm.

GROWING UP?

“Growing up under the Qun? Well, the Tamassrans raise us in units, with kids our own age. Like teachers or Chantry sisters. They also figure out what jobs we should do.” He chuckled quietly, flexing the palm I'd written on. “They had me pegged for military work from the get-go. When they saw I could hit things and lie, they got me started on training for the Ben-Hassrath.”

I grabbed his palm again and spelled out: NO FAMILY?

Bull shook his massive horned head. “The Qun doesn't really have a place for “families”, but the Tamassrans were like our parents. Taught us how to read, helped us go to sleep; all the parent stuff.” I watched as a smile crept onto Bull's face as he spoke. “I remember the one who helped me build things with blocks. She'd laugh whenever I knocked them down.”

Despite my desire to learn more about The Iron Bull, a tendril of jealousy curled in my stomach as I listened to him talk. He hadn't had parents like mine, but it sounded to me like he'd had more support from his Tamassran than I'd gotten from both of my own parents. Then again, we'd both been pushed in directions we'd shown promise in; him with the Ben-Hassrath and me with my cello. He was following orders from his superiors, while I'd-

“Herah? You still with me?”

I looked up to see Bull staring at me with concern in his eye, his hand reaching to touch my back. I quickly nodded, to both reassure him and shake the lingering melancholy from my head, and purred when his fingers scratched the spot right between my shoulder blades.

“You sure drift off a lot. Something on your mind?” he asked.

Of course, I didn't want to share anything about my family with him, so just shook my head and nibbled on a piece of meat. Maybe there was something else I could ask him? There had to be something...

Maybe... What was romance like for the Qunari?

My meat forgotten, I returned to Bull's palm and wrote:

QUNARI ROMANCE?

Bull arched an eyebrow, his hand stilling on my back. “You wanna know about romance? Er... well, okay.” He hummed for a moment, then said, “I don't know how it compares to a dragon's idea of romance, but the Qunari are pretty open. There's no marriage, just casual sex. The Tamassrans control who mates with who, and if you just need to let off a little steam, they'll do it for you. It's like...I dunno, seeing a healer. Sometimes it can take all day and leaves you walking funny. Other times you're in and out in five minutes. Like-” he clicked his tongue twice, “thank you, see you next week!”

My eyes must have gone comically wide, because Bull was suddenly laughing. I quickly hid my face under my claws, my face heating up with every passing second.

To me, I'd grown up with the idea that sex was something that happened between two people who were either married, getting married, or in love enough to want a kid. Then again, I'd had sex and I had thought I'd been in love... What was so embarrassing about casual sex? If anything, it sounded kinda nice.

“If other dragons get as flustered about sex as you do, we've been fighting them the wrong way. Maybe the next dragon I meet, I'll just try to give it The Talk.” He smacked his mug against the table, droplets of ale splashing out of the mug and landing on the warped wood. “Ha! That would be a sight. See, when a boy dragon likes a girl dragon, they get together and-”

I squeaked and flailed my tiny paws at him, smacking them against his bicep as he laughed at me. He was so embarrassing! I'd never be able to show my face in the tavern again if he kept going! Not to mention I sincerely hoped he didn't try that if we ever saw a dragon.

If he did try it, I'd throttle him myself.


	12. In Hushed Whispers, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic hit 100 kudos this week, which is an astounding amount of support I wasn't expecting when I started writing! Thank you all so much for giving this story a chance. I hope I continue to entertain you until this story is finished.

When we returned to the village of Redcliffe for negotiations, the sun was just beginning to set, its light painting the sky with strokes of pink and amber. It seemed nothing in the town had improved since the Inquisition's first visit. If fact, the tension in the air gave off a distinct “NOT OKAY” vibe that made my skin crawl. I was thankful Lavellan had chosen to come here instead of making a run for the Templars. Leaving this much negativity alone would have had a terrible impact on Ferelden.

Apparently the country had a queen, but I hadn't heard anything about her making a move on Redcliffe. Was she just busy, or was a power-hungry man from Tevinter wielding the power of a couple hundred of rebel mages not important enough to handle? Then again, I wasn't a monarch, so I didn't know what she was thinking or what her reasons were.

While Leliana's scouts and Dorian used the secret passage, Lavellan, Solas, Bull and I took the long-as-hell bridge to the large lakeside castle. Men in spiked metal masks opened the gates for us, their piercing eyes the only part of them not covered in cloth or metal. From my position walking alongside Lavellan, I could see the way their stares affected her. Her fists were tightly clenched at her sides and her steps were careful. It looked like she was prepared for battle rather than negotiations. I just hoped it wouldn't come down to a fight. Alexius was an asshole, that much was clear, but he would be willing to talk, right?

One last door was opened for us before we stepped into the castle's main hall. The banners that hung from the high arches around the room were dark green embroidered with a silver dragon entwined with a silver snake. Torches lined the walls and gave the room some light, but most of the light came from the grand stone fireplace built into the wall behind Alexius' throne.

Alexius himself was no differently dressed than our last meeting. He wore the same red robes and the same stupid hat, and I still had to swallow the urge to light him on fire. Felix was beside him, still standing strong while looking sickly. The dark circles under his eyes had darkened even more, and his cheeks had taken on an unhealthy paleness. How long did he have? What exactly was making him sick?

Upon reaching the other end of the hall, a man announced us to the magister and his son. Alexius stood and opened his arms to us, and said, “My friends! It's so good to see you again. And your... associates, of course.” He glanced at Solas and Bull, his eyes narrowing slightly, and then his gaze fell to me. I narrowed my eyes right back at him and straightened my shoulders, trying to will my nerves to settle. I was glad when he looked back at Lavellan and continued speaking with her.

When I looked into his eyes, all I felt was a wall of fake sincerity and greed. It was entirely too familiar a feeling. Family gatherings had been nothing but fake smiles and underhanded comments. It was an unsavory environment that I'd been happy to leave behind. Too bad it couldn't have stayed there.

Before I could continue that train of thought, I heard Lavellan mention the Venatori. I felt the room suddenly go cold, despite the fire crackling away behind Alexius, who had retaken his seat on the throne.

“Now, where could you have heard that name?” the magister mused, his brows furrowing slightly.

“I told them.” Felix said in a firm voice. As he gazed down at his father and spoke, I could see determination in his tired eyes. I felt a bubble of jealousy rise in my stomach. He was standing up to his father, trying to show the man how his actions were wrong. That was admirable. Maybe he could join the Inquisition after the talks were over.

But first, we had to deal with Alexius, who was getting far too agitated for my liking.

“You walk into my stronghold with your stolen mark – a gift you don't even understand – and think you're in control?” He was glaring down his nose at us, eyes full of contempt, as he hissed, “You're nothing but a mistake.”

For a minute, I couldn't breathe. The world went fuzzy and out of focus, and a high-pitched ringing filled my ears.

Mistake.

Nothing but a mistake.

* * *

_My hands trembled as they rested against the double doors of my father's study. My ear was pressed to the wood; soft oak stained dark brown with vines of ivy carved around the edges. Locks of chestnut brown hair hung in my eyes, escaping the braid hanging against the back of my neck. I could hear my father's voice from the room beyond, a deep rumble that occasionally raised into a shout. I shivered at the sound, my oversized sweater doing nothing to keep me from getting chills. It wasn't cold in the house. It was fear I was feeling._

_Keeping one hand on the door and the other on my stomach, I pressed my ear against the fine grain of the wood again.  
_

_At first, I could hear my mother's voice, shrill and almost nasal. I could easily picture her; sitting on the bench by the window, her bony shoulders raised to her ears and her straw blond hair pulled up in a tight bun, her hands clutching her rosary and winding the pearl beads around her fingers. Her face would be pinched and strained, her eyes glassy, but she wouldn't be crying or she would ruin her makeup.  
_

_Then I heard my father's voice, a booming roar that made the doors shake with every shout. I felt a kick in my gut, and I absentmindedly rubbed the large bump there through my sweater. I was five months along, so the tiny baby inside me made it clear it didn't like loud noises.  
_

_No, not the baby.  
_

_My baby.  
_

_My precious baby.  
_

_Suddenly, the door swung away under my fingers, leaving my arm dangling in the air. I snapped my head up and came face to face with my father. He was six feet tall with buzzed brown hair, dressed in his dark grey suit pants and white button-up shirt. Though normally clean shaven, he sported a light five o'clock shadow on his jaw. His grey eyes were filled with malice, and I took several steps back until I was out of reach.  
_

_“What the hell are you doing? Why aren't you with your tutor?!” I tried to answer him, but he cut off and shouted, “Take your shameful mistake and get out of my sight!”  
_

_Needing no more of an excuse than that, I turned from my father and ran as fast as I could._

* * *

I came back to my senses at the sound of anguished cries and metal scraping against stone. A quick look around revealed the Venatori agents Alexius had had stationed around the room were dead on the floor. In the time I had been wrapped up in my memories, Leliana's scouts had killed them and Dorian had joined our ranks to try and talk Alexius down.

Apparently, that wasn't working like we'd planned.

“You,” the magister spat, “are a mistake! You never should have existed!”

I looked up at Alexius, but I didn't see him anymore.

Instead, all I saw was my father sneering down at me.

Before I realized what I was doing, I rushed towards him at full speed, my lips pulled back as I screamed at him. I wanted to bite him, rip him open, and tear him apart until there was nothing left. My vision was red with rage, and I wanted to see nothing but his dark red blood spatter on the stone floors. Blood for blood.

But before I could reach him, flashes of light filled my vision, and a cloud of green smoke clouded the room. I could feel something pulling me away from Alexius, who stood only a few feet away now. I tried to gain some traction, but the smooth floors offered me no grip. I quickly found myself sliding back into the smoke, shrieking out of pure frustration as the world around me spun and changed from green to red.

* * *

When I came back to myself, I was floating in two feet of water inside of what looked like a dungeon. Red crystals sprouted from the walls and ceiling, glowing brightly in the darkness.

My heart was hammering away in my ears, but I could make out the sound of splashing. I shook my head to clear away some of the fuzziness and looked towards the door, spotting two Venatori heading towards me with their weapons drawn.

With as much magic as I could muster, I spat a stream of fire at them, cooking them where they stood. I could smell their skin burning under their metal armor, and I could hear them whimpering as they tried to move. I pounced on the first one as he got his helmet off, and I buried my teeth into his throat before he could scream. Blood mixed with the water around me as I tore into him, turning the world a muddy shade of red.

“Blasted little monster!”

I released the dead man's throat just as the second guard lifted his sword, ready to strike me, and was hit with a blast of ice and lightning. He was dead before he hit the floor, his sword hitting the water with a solid splash.

I looked towards the source of the magic to see Lavellan and Dorian standing where I'd been a moment ago. Their eyes were wide as they looked at me, and it was then that I realized I was growling. I immediately stopped and backed away from the corpses, my chest heaving as I fought to regain coherent thought.

_Come on, Herah. Breathe in. Breathe out.  
_

_You can do this. You've killed people before now.  
_

_Breathe in. One, two, three, four, five.  
_

_Breathe out. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven._

By the time I'd gotten my breathing under control, Lavellan and Dorian were closer now. The elf was reaching for me carefully, her hands open and relaxed. She was whispering to me, speaking a soothing language I'd only heard her and Solas speak to each other. When she was close enough, I pressed my head into her palms and whimpered. She gathered me into her arms without a second thought. In her arms, I felt unbelievably safe.

“Are you sure that's safe?” Dorian asked.

“She's alright now, Dorian. She's probably just as stressed out as we are,” Lavellan said quietly. She gave me a gentle scratch between the shoulders, then added, “So what exactly is going on, Dorian. I assume you have some idea what Alexius just did?”

“Oh yes,” the man replied, almost too quickly. “I believe this is a case of displacement. It's probably not what Alexius intended. The rift must have moved us... but to what? The closest confluence of arcane energy?”

I watched the mustached man pace, the water around him rippling as he moved. My eyes kept drifting to the corpse just a few feet away with its throat torn to shreds. It had been a living human being, and I'd murdered him without even batting an eye. I'd been too blind with rage to see anything past releasing my pent-up frustrations.

Was I losing control of myself?

Was I becoming too much like a dragon?

Would I eventually attack my own friends?

“Of course!” Dorian shouted, causing me to flinch. “It's not simply where – it's when! Alexius used the amulet as a focus. It moved us through time!”

...what. I gave Dorian the most confused look I could manage. Lavellan, it seemed, was just as confused.

“What?! How is that even possible?” she demanded, her eyes wide with surprise.

“Remember,” the man said, “I helped Alexius develop this magic. It's unstable, but it's how he managed to steal the mages from you.” He turned towards the hallway, a grimace pulling at his lips. “Let's look around and see where the rift took us. Then we can figure out how to get back... If we can.”

_If?? Oh my god, how could this day get any worse?_


	13. In Hushed Whispers, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, friends and readers! It's time to finish up the In Hushed Whispers mission!

Whenever we were, the place was an utter mess.

Redcliffe Castle was still mostly standing, though it was a little worn down from what I could see. A couple ceilings were caved in, some of the stone floor had been busted up, and statues of large dogs stood tall and broken in every hall. Oh, and the skeletons. There were piles of skeletons too. But that was nothing a good cleaning crew couldn't fix, right?

Well, except for the red lyrium. That shit was everywhere. 

The large crystal spires jutted out from the walls like giant icicles, glowing with a fierce red light in the darkness. With each new hallway, we found more and more of the stuff. Sometimes the crystals were so large and close together that they formed jagged walls we couldn't pass through. Even when we found a place we could possibly squeeze through, Lavellan insisted we keep away from it. She informed us that Varric, who had apparently discovered the stuff, had said that it wasn't safe to be around. We were forced to find other ways through the castle.

As we walked, I couldn't help but wonder what the date was. The place didn't look too run down, so it couldn't have been more than a decade, right? But how long did red lyrium take to form? Did it grow like rock crystals, or had someone planted it there to spread like a fungus? I made a mental note to ask Varric once we got back to Haven.

 _If_ we got back to Haven.

Exploring the next floor proved to be both better and worse than I'd hoped. After taking out a few more groups of Venatori idiots, we found a set of cells not unlike the ones on the floor below.

This time, however, there was someone inside one of the cells.

I don't know how Lavellan saw her in the darkness, but a gasp was all we heard before she rushed forward and gripped the bars of the closest cell.

“Fiona? Is that you?” she called. Dorian and I hurried to join her, but stopped the moment we could see the grand enchanter.

The woman looked like hell had chewed her up and spat her back out. In the angry red light of the lyrium, Fiona was a skeleton of her former self. Her hair was longer and matted, like she hadn't bathed in months. Her skin was gaunt and cracking in places, revealing a sickening red substance that oozed from her like pus. Her eyes, once sharp with suspicion, were now bloodshot and glowing faintly red. The biggest change, however, were the enormous clusters of red lyrium crystals encasing her body from the waist down.

“You're... alive? How?” she asked, her voice little more than a wheeze. As she spoke, her lips cracked and split painfully, and blood from the tiny cuts fell to the floor. They turned into red crystals before they hit the stones at her feet.

I felt a wave of panic come over me, and I fought for a moment to regain some mental calmness. Holy shit, I could not wait to get out of here. Not just the room, but the whole castle, and especially the time. I wanted to go back home, to Haven, where I could hunt in the mornings and spend the evenings cuddling with someone. I didn't want to be in this nightmare.

“Can you tell us the date?” Dorian asked. “It's very important.”

Fiona frowned for a moment as she close her eyes, clearly fighting to keep herself from whimpering. “H-Harvestmere... 9:42 Dragon...”

“Nine forty-two?” he said. I still didn't understand the dating system in Thedas, but Dorian was clearly surprised by the number. He was visibly startled, and his tan complexion lost some of its color as he spoke. “Then we've missed an entire year!”

“We need to go back. Now.” Lavellan said firmly. Her grip on the iron bars was turning her knuckles white, and I chittered softly at her.

“Please,” Fiona continued to wheeze, “stop this from happening. Alexius... serves the Elder One. More powerful... than the Maker. No one challenges him... and lives.”

“He won't get away with this. Not Alexius, and not this Elder One,” the Herald murmured as she finally released the bars. Her hands were black and red from rust, but she didn't seem to care. I'd never seen her so angry before. Dorian hadn't seemed to notice, as he was too busy mumbling to himself.

“Our only hope is to find the amulet Alexius used to send us here. If it still exists, I can use it to reopen the rift at the exact spot we left. Maybe.”

Bless that man and his mustache if he was right.

“Good,” Fiona sighed, as if giving a voice to my thoughts.

“I said maybe,” Dorian grumbled, folding his arms across his chest. “It could also turn us into paste.”

I squawked at that, clearly displeased with the idea of becoming a pile of mush. He merely looked down at me and shrugged.

“Don't shout at me, I'm only being honest. This magic was never stable in the first place.”

“It's a start,” Lavellan said quietly. “Let's get moving before Alexius figures out we're here.”

As we turned to go, Fiona piped up one last time, saying, “Your spymaster, Leliana... she is here. Find her.” Her eyelids drooped as she spoke, and when she was finished, she seemed to drift off to sleep, slumped against the cell's wall with only her crystal prison keeping her upright.

We had no choice but to leave her there.

* * *

Further exploration of Redcliffe's castle yielded a few more results. We found several other people, mostly Inquisition soldiers, who were either dead, dying, or quietly praying to Andraste or the Maker for a swift death. We passed them all by, unable to do anything for them. Killing them would have been pointless if going back in time proved to be an option. Negating this future would keep them from becoming what they were here.

So we continued through the halls, looking for signs of Alexius and his amulet.

Instead, we found The Iron Bull.

“Three hundred bottles of beer on the wall, three hundred bottles of beer...,” a deep voice droned from a nearby cell. “Take one down, pass it around...”

It took me a moment to realize who was singing terribly, and when it hit me I rushed to the iron bars and chattered loudly at the hulking form beyond them.

When The Iron Bull turned and looked down at me, I couldn't help but chirp out of concern. Bull was still as tall as I remembered, but he had lost weight. His dye tattoos had long since faded, and his skin was cracked in places where small clusters of red crystals clung to his rough skin. His horns were much worse for wear as well, and the tip of one of them had been broken off.

“Herah? You're not dead?” he asked disbelievingly. Then he looked up at Dorian and Lavellan, and his expression became grave. “You're all supposed to be dead. There was a burn on the ground and everything.”

Dorian stepped forward, using his staff to break the lock on the cell door and open it. “Alexius didn't kill us. His spell sent us through time. This is our future.”

“Well, it's _my_ present,” Bull griped as he emerged from his cell, “and in _my past_ , I definitely saw all three of you die.”

I chattered at Bull and wound my way around his ankles a few times, then stood up on my back legs and chirped. Clearly we were okay, and we were going to fix everything by going back in time. I wanted to tell him that so badly, but I settled for chirping again and tugging lightly on his pants leg until I got his attention.

The good feelings in my gut melted away when I saw the look of sadness on his scarred face.

“I can't pick you up, Herah. It... wouldn't be good for you.”

I chattered confusedly, tugging on his pant leg again. He just shook his head.

“You don't look well. Are you alright?” Lavellan asked, reaching to touch his arm. He batted her hand away gently, shaking his head.

“It's the red lyium. If I'm lucky, it'll kill me. If not... I'm hoping I die fighting. Best not to touch me.”

Bull was... dying?

I lost my tenuous hold on my calm mind for a moment, letting out a string of screeching curses. Lavellan tried to shush me, but I just ignored her and let out a blast of fire at the nearest cluster of lyrium crystals stuck to the wall. I felt like someone was trying to rip out my heart. No, Bull couldn't be dying! Lyrium was supposed to help people, right? It helped Lavellan and Solas all the time! How could the red stuff be any different from the blue stuff? There had to be a way to save him! Alexius had a castle full of this stuff, so he had to know of a way to get rid of it!

A large, gentle hand touched my back, jarring me out of my emotional rampage. It was Bull, kneeling down and looking stern.

“Hey, none of that. You need to focus on fixing things, not worrying about me.” He laughed gruffly and removed his hand. “You should know that I'm not going down easy. I plan on fighting until every 'vint in this castle is dead. Well, except for your 'vint here.” He motioned to Dorian, who simply huffed.

“You're not dying,” the mage said firmly. “If we find Alexius, we go back, and none of this will happen. Remember?”

Bull let out a snort, shaking his head and he stood up again. “Alexius isn't the one you need to worry about. It's his “Elder One”. He killed the Empress of Orlais, and used the confusion to launch an invasion of the South. The army was all demons.” He paused, giving each of us a moment to let that sink in. “You ever fought a demon army? I don't recommend it.”

“Well... shit,” Lavellan said eloquently. I honestly couldn't have said it better myself.

“I know, right?” Bull said. He inclined his head towards the exit. “Let's move. No time like the present.”

* * *

Shortly after Bull joined up, we found Solas.

At first, I thought we were passing another Inquisition soldier in their cell, quietly waiting for death. But then they turned around, and I let out a rattle that made everyone around me jump. Solas turned and looked down at me, his eyes wide and glowing red. Then he saw Lavellan standing beside me, and he reached out to her.

“You're alive? We saw you die!” he blurted out, very much unlike his usual composed demeanor.

The year we'd been gone had not been kind to him. His tunic hung loosely on him, and his features were sharp from malnutrition. His voice carried the same strained sound Fiona's had. He was still alive, though he was in the same condition as Bull. Dying from red lyrium.

“The spell Alexius used displaced us in time. We only just got here, so to speak,” Dorian said calmly as he opened the cell door, allowing the elf to join us.

“Can...can you reverse the process? You could return and obviate the events of this last year! It may not be too late!” He sounded so hopeful that I wanted to hug him, to tell him that everything was going to be okay, but I couldn't shake the feeling of dread growing in my gut. With Dorian continuously saying we could go back to our time if we had the amulet, it was starting to sound like we would never get the damn thing. Was Murphy's Law a thing in this universe? Or karma? What if none of this even worked and we all ended up dying where we should have died a year ago?

The worry in Lavellan's voice brought me back from my growing terror.

“Solas, you don't look well. Are you...”

He quickly cut her off, the hope on his face replaced by solemness. “Don't worry for me, dalen. You must focus on returning to your time and fixing this abomination of a future. You must not let this come to pass.”

Solas was right. I had to focus on doing everything right and fixing the timeline. If I got distracted by what-ifs, then I would be leaving myself open to failure.

It was just like with playing a cello. Distract yourself with thoughts of what could go wrong, and you were bound to make those very mistakes. Focus was the key.

If only those thoughts weren't looming over me like a thick fog.

* * *

With Solas and The Iron Bull in our group, we had a much easier time of taking out the Venatori agents scattered about the upper halls. Once Bull got his hands on a two-handed battleaxe, he was cleaving heads from shoulders and clearing a path for us. For a moment, I wanted to thank Lavellan for bringing Bull along to Redcliffe Castle. Then I realized what bringing him along had done to the poor man, and I had to mentally punch myself for thinking something so stupid. Bull didn't deserve this future. No one did. Not even Vivienne, and I hated her.

It was probably naive, but I decided that once I was back in the right time, I would try to be less judgmental towards Vivienne. Maybe I'd try to talk to her, see if maybe we could at least form a mutual tolerance for each other instead of the barbed comments from her and the hissing and growling from me. I wanted to at least try to be nice. Was that so naive?

Suddenly the sound of a slap rang through the hall our group was in, followed by a harsh cry. I wasn't the only one who heard it, as Lavellan took off at a run towards the end of the hall, leaving the rest of us to chase after her. And since I had tiny legs and could only run so fast, I was the last party member to arrive at the door.

Just in time to see one terrifying future-Leliana snap the neck of a Venatori mage with just her thighs.

Jesus tap-dancing Christ on a cracker. I didn't know whether to be impressed or scared shitless. I think I was a little of both.

If the year we'd been missing had been unkind to Bull and Solas, it had been unbelievably cruel to Leliana. Every inch of deathly-pale skin on her face and neck was covered with a motley of scars, old and new. She looked more like a zombie than a human, and that was being generous. But despite the hell she had obviously been through, she was still able to wield her bow and channel her hatred for this “Elder One” into fighting alongside us.

And boy, was her hatred intense. It made my earlier incidents seem like a child's tantrums. She took down Venatori like they were simply archery targets, her arrows finding their throats like homing missiles. Walking beside her felt like being in the eye of a storm; calm and cold up close, with hostile winds swirling around her and taking down everything in her path. Bull didn't even get to charge into battle much anymore. Leliana just shot down every foe before they even knew we were within range, then ripped her arrows from their corpses as we passed.

I missed the old Leliana. The woman who had helped me settle into the Chantry's basement. The woman who had brought me a scrap or two of meat after dinner the first few nights in Haven. The woman who had smiled and let me hide out underneath the war table while Cullen and Josephine argued over missions. I missed her a lot. This new Leliana was a stranger to me, and just looking at her made me want to kill Alexius even more.

That asshole was going to pay for hurting everyone so much. He would get no mercy from me.

It didn't take long to get into the magister's hiding place. Leliana helped us find a roundabout path through the castle, utilizing a few secret passages to get us there faster. We encountered fewer Venatori that way, which saved us quite a chunk of time.

The magister had boarded himself up inside the castle's main hall, the same place we'd been transported from a year ago. The room was an absolute wreck, but the fireplace still stood at the far end of the hall, looking only remotely battered. There wasn't as much red lyrium up here as there had been in the lower floors, so I was silently thankful for that. I didn't want to touch that nasty stuff, not even with a twenty-foot pole.

Alexius himself was standing in front of the fireplace, his silhouette black against the bright fire. At first glance, he seemed to be reading something in his hands, but when we got closer I realized he was simply standing there, looking extremely tired.

Then I saw Felix. The poor man didn't look like himself anymore. He was sitting on his knees, staring blankly at the wall. His skin was bordering on translucent, and the dark circles under his eyes were nearly black in the fire's light. He looked more like a corpse than Leliana. I wanted to run up to him and chirp at him, to see if I could get his attention, but I didn't want to risk getting Alexius's attention. If we could do this quickly and without fighting, that would be best. The less time we spent fighting, the better.

Leliana, however, seemed to have a different idea. When she sidled up behind Felix and pressed her dagger to his throat, I screeched at her out of surprised and anger. What the hell was she doing? Lavellan was trying to end this without Alexius trying anything!

“Please, I'll give you anything you want! Just don't hurt my son!” he cried, on the verge of tears.

Leliana seemed to consider this for a moment, then snarled, “I want the world back,” and slid her blade though Felix's neck. Alexius let out a pained cry and sent the spymaster flying backwards, magic fire burning the edges of her clothes.

I don't know if it was in response to Felix's death or Alexius hurting Leliana, but I did the first thing that came to my mind: I let out the most raw, ear-piercing scream you could ever imagine and _set that bastard of a man on fire._

I would've let him burn to death too, but Dorian had to put him out with a little ice magic in order to retrieve the amulet around his neck. He was still alive, and gasping in pain as he struggled to crawl away. Bull slit his throat with Lavellan's spare dagger before he got too far.

I turned away and sat down next to Felix's still body. My heart ached from seeing him so lifeless earlier, and now he was just as lifeless. His father had chosen to do this to him, had insisted this was best for him, and he'd been turned into a walking corpse with no life or vibrancy in him. He had become a doll, living yet dead at the same time.

If I had remained with my family, would I have become the same thing?

Before my sadness could further consume me, a loud roar from outside shook the castle, throwing everyone off balance. I looked towards the others to see Leliana talking animatedly, pointing towards the fireplace. Solas and Bull exchanged a look, said something quietly to Lavellan, then began walking towards the double doors at the opposite end of the hall. Bull turned and looked at me, giving me a cheeky grin before disappearing behind the tall wooden doors.

What was going on?

Moving from Felix's side, I rejoined the now-smaller group as Dorian began casting a spell. Lavellan scooped me up the moment I was within reach, whispering that it was time to go home. Another roar ripped through the castle, and I could hear the sound of fighting from the doors Bull and Solas had left through. What the hell was going on??

Turns out, I didn't need to wait long to find out.

After hearing explosions and roars for twenty or so minutes, the double doors flew off their hinges with a blast of green light. Demons flooded the room shortly after, but I was distracted by the sight of a tall terror demon stalking into the room and throwing Bull to the floor. He landed in a bloody heap, along with Solas, and remained unmoving as the demons advanced upon Leliana.

I didn't need to get close to know they were gone, but it didn't stop me from screaming out of anger and despair. Again, I felt like someone was trying to punch a hole through my chest, just to rip out my heart. The pain was beyond anything I'd ever felt before. Damn this future to the bowels of hell and beyond! I wanted Bull back!

Lavellan made to move forward, with me still in her arms, but Dorian stopped her with a hand on her elbow.

“You move, and we all die!” he shouted, barely audible above the screaming spirits.

So we waited for Dorian to finish his spell, painfully aware that Leliana was losing arrows faster and faster. I couldn’t bring myself to look away as the terror demon took a swipe at her, and its claws came away soaked with blood. Leliana faltered and fell to her knees just as the spell was ready.

The last thing I saw as we stepped through the portal was Leliana's gaze, burning not with hatred, but with hope.

* * *

There was no fanfare when we returned to our own time. No clapping of hands or celebratory handshakes. Not even a word of congratulations for surviving hell.

To them, we had disappeared for only a moment.

For us, we had been gone for what felt like forever.

But no one would know that. Not until we told them what had happened. To them, we had disappeared, reappeared, and arrested the foul Tevinter magister. We had done the Inquisition proud and had earned an alliance with the mages, much to the relief of Queen Anora, who had just so happened to show up with her army just as all the action was over. She would have banished the mages from Ferelden, had Lavellan not stepped in to offer another option. Bless that elf for thinking on her feet.

Now all we had to do was transport a few hundred mages through the Hinterlands to Haven, seal the Breach, and have a party. It sounded easy enough.

However, I was saddened to hear Felix would not be joining us. Instead of coming along, he would head to Tevinter to try and ask the council there to support the Inquisition. Then, if things went well, he would attempt the journey to Haven, if only to see the results of sealing the Breach.

I sincerely hoped that he made it back to us. I would be happy to see him again, even if it was just for a visit. I wanted something nice to happen after all the bullshit I'd just gone through.

But for now, I had the return trek to Haven to look forward to, along with the sealing of the Breach. If the Maker or whatever gods were out there felt kind, maybe it would be an uneventful trip.


	14. A Celebration Cut Short

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy hell in a handbasket, the last week has been a pain in my ass. But thanks to the miracle known as "Planning Ahead", I had this week's chapter written ahead of time. Happy reading!

With Redcliffe behind us and Haven just ahead, the mood of our now two-hundred member party was somewhere between ecstatic and a nervous kind of happy. The mages had their alliance, which would protect them from the Templars, and the Inquisition had the power to seal the giant hole in the sky. Win-win situation, right?

Unfortunately, I wasn't exactly feeling the happy vibes everyone was giving off. I was still going over our encounter with Alexius in my head, replaying the memories like an old VHS tape. So much had happened in that future Redcliffe that I still hadn't processed everything. Why had I acted so violently towards Alexius? The man had said a simple phrase, and I had lit off like a firecracker. Had he not cast his spell and sent me, along with Lavellan and Dorian, into the future, I probably would have ripped him to bloody pieces where he'd stood. I could have caused more problems for the Inquisition by doing that.

But what would have happened if I hadn't stopped?

What if I'd just kept on fighting and screaming and killing?

What if I'd killed Lavellan? Or Bull?

Was I losing my mind?

What was wrong with me?

These questions continued to plague my mind, even as the group arrived and Haven. I watched as Cassandra and Cullen helped the mages settled in. I wasn't any good at pitching tents or healing wounds, so I mostly stayed in the background, walking in the shadow of the camp's fence. I was cold, but I didn't feel like sitting by a fire or going into the Chantry. I just felt like sitting by myself. I wanted to be alone for a while. Thinking was easier when there weren't people stepping on my tail and screaming when I hissed in response.

Once I was away from all the stomping feet and incessant chattering, I noticed I was near Haven's lake. The wind was calm but blowing, carrying small flakes that were barely bigger than one of my scales. A storm was coming. I watched them fall for a bit as I savored the quiet forest around me, but eventually my thoughts returned to Redcliffe.

When Alexius had called Lavellan a mistake, I had immediately remembered my father, who had said almost the same thing. I remembered screaming and wanting to hurt the mage, to tear him limb from limb and burn his corpse until nothing remained. I had actually set him on fire and watched him burn alive in that awful future Redcliffe, and I'd felt fine with it. I had let a human being almost burn to death right in front of me.

If Alexius had been my father, would I have done the same thing? Would I have sat back and watched as flames ate him alive? Would I have done the same to my mother or my brothers? The old me would have said no immediately, that they didn't deserve such a painful experience. However, the new me couldn't answer right away.

Was I a terrible person for not knowing? I didn't want to think about it anymore.

I sneezed as the wind picked up a bit, and I found my gaze drifting to the storm clouds on the horizon. The snow would hit Haven by nightfall. Lavellan and the mages would have to seal the Breach before then, or wait until the snow stopped falling.

“Herah?”

I turned to see the Herald herself walking towards me, a fur-lined cloak draped over her thin shoulders. Her hair had been washed and dried and was pulled back into a loose braid. There were bags under her moss green eyes, a rare sign of exhaustion for her. In the time that I'd known her, she had overcome every challenge without thinking twice or looking back. Maybe Redcliffe had affected her more than she'd let on.

When she sat down next to me on the sandy shore, I shuffled my way into her lap without thinking. Somehow, sitting on someone's lap or tucking myself next to their leg had suddenly become my favorite places to be. It was like cuddling, and I had basically become a cat just to do it. Lucky for me, Lavellan didn't seem to mind my cuddling. Instead of pushing me away, she allowed me to clamber over her legs, and even covered me up with part of her cape. Her warmth seeped into my scales, chasing away the cold.

“Should I assume you've been having trouble sleeping as well?” she asked. I nodded and heaved a sigh, silently glad she was still willing to be around me. She had seen everything I'd done, but wasn't afraid of me. She wasn't trembling, her eyes were calm and kind, and she didn't hesitate to give me a soft scratch between my shoulders. Aside from The Iron Bull, she gave the best scratches.

“I just... I can't stop thinking about that future,” Lavellan said quietly, her fingers stilling after a moment. “I'd been so careless when going to see Alexius, I hadn't even considered he might succeed in hurting the Inquisition.” She sniffled wetly, and I looked up to see her eyes had turned glassy and tears were spilling down her cheeks. “I'd failed them...”

Chattering and frowning, I grabbed a clawful of her cape and raised it to her face, trying as gently as possible to dry her tears. She looked at me sadly as she stopped me, her thin fingers curling around my tiny paws.

“I failed you, too, Herah. I couldn't protect Bull for you.”

I couldn't help flinching at the mention of the big qunari, images of him covered in red lyrium flooding my mind.

Thinking back, it wasn't just Alexius' words that had had such a profound effect on me. My heart had cracked even more when I'd seen Bull in such terrible condition. To see him, once proud and tall, look so tired and pained by the red lyrium had been like a dagger between the ribs. I never wanted to see him like that again. I didn't want to remember his battered and broken body landing on the floor of Redcliffe's castle, blood flowing out onto the cold stones. I wanted to see him happy and grinning from horn to horn, laughing boisterously with the Chargers and chugging drinks in the tavern.

I wanted to keep him safe.

“I couldn't protect him,” Lavellan continued, tears once more falling from her eyes. I chattered at her quietly, trying to pull her from her sadness, but she didn't hear me. Waves of pity and concern crashed in my mind. Lavellan didn't deserve to feel this way. She was one of the kindest and strongest people I'd ever met, and I knew that she did her best every time someone asked her for help.

She continued to cry as she spoke. “I couldn't protect Solas or Leliana or even Felix. My pride got them all killed. Had Dorian not been there, we would have died. _Ir abelas_ , Herah. I am sor-”

Before the words could leave her mouth, I pressed a clawed paw to her lips and kept it there until I knew she wouldn't continue. The pity in my chest had twisted into determination. I wouldn't let her continue like this. She needed encouragement, and if I could give it then I would.

I hopped out of her lap and began writing in the snow and sand.

_You did what you had to do to get us home, as did Bull, Solas, and Leliana. They gave us enough time to survive and return home. As long as we work to keep The Elder One from winning, that future will never happen._

I paused, then added: _WE won't let that happen._

Lavellan sniffled again, wiping cold tear trails from her cheeks before they could freeze. “You believe we can prevent that future? That we could prevent this Elder One from killing Empress Celene and raising an army? A demon army?” She laughed incredulously, glancing at the bright green light of the Mark crackling quietly in her palm. “And if we make a mistake? If we fail?”

I stomped a tiny foot and wrote: _We WON'T fail. We will protect the Empress and the people of Thedas. I believe in you, our friends, and in the Inquisition's cause._

“But do you believe in yourself?” the elf asked, her fingertips coming up to press gently against the hourglass on my chest. “You have just as much power as the rest of us, Herah, but you are troubled. I saw how you tried to attack Alexius, how you attacked the Venatori in the future. You were so angry, I barely recognized you at first. You must not carry that hurt inside you.”

Before I could react, she pulled me into an embrace, like how one would hold a precious stuffed animal. “Please, let me help you, _da'mi_. Do not let your anger fester. I would listen to you, as you have listened to me. I am your friend.”

Hearing her words, I felt a wave of terror wash over me. Lavellan? My friend?? I'd had friends on Earth, but they had been classmates who had been quick to judge and gossip. After so many years spent living in Spruce Creek, I could barely remember their faces anymore. But now Lavellan, who had no idea I'd been human once, wanted to be close to me. My rage hadn't scared her away, and that both scared and relieved me. But mostly, it scared me.

What if she rejected me? What if I told her my story, and she ended up hating me? Would she call me a mistake as well? Would she be disgusted with my weaknesses? I wouldn't be able to handle that. I couldn't lose her because of my past.

Ducking under her arms, I shuffled onto the sand again, erased the old words, and wrote:

_I think of you as my friend as well, and I want to tell you things, but I am scared you will think I am crazy._

I paused, my claw just barely an inch above the sand, then added:

_When I am ready to talk, will you listen then?_

Lavellan thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “I promise, I will listen. I won't force you to talk about your pain if you do not wish to.” She smiled, her eyes kind despite being red from crying. “Healing should never be forced. I will be glad to listen when you are ready.”

I swallowed the lump steadily growing in my throat, suddenly feeling nervous. Was that really okay? Would she really listen when I was ready? Would I ever be ready to talk about Earth? Would she understand me, or would she write me off as crazy?

I'd just have to wait and find out. One more thing to add to the pile of crazy things to look forward to. We had to deal with a demon army, an empress' assassination, some guy called The Elder One, and now a friendly discussion about Earth and my past.

If this world got anymore nutty, I'd have to start taking notes.

At least I knew Lavellan had my back. 

* * *

Lavellan and I returned to the camp shortly after our chat, and was greeted by the sight of two-hundred-some mages gathering around the path to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Most were adults between twenty and fifty, and each carried their own staff or stave on their backs and wore robes of muted colors and various states of repair. Some children had accompanied us from Redcliffe, but Fiona had explained on the way that they were not ready to add their power to the collective, that they were still untested and vulnerable to demonic influence. They had to be left in Haven's camp, along with the most senior members of the group who could no longer keep on their feet. They gathered in the largest of the mages' tents, giving lessons to the young ones or meditating.

I would have stayed with them, but I wanted to see the Breach up close. Yes, it was probably dangerous, but it was my last chance to see it before it was sealed. This was the reason the Inquisition had formed, or at least it was one of the reasons. We still had the issue of The Elder One and his plans, but that could wait for a bit. At that moment, we had the chance to fix one of the biggest problems.

I had never been to the Temple of Sacred Ashes, but Leliana had talked about it once when I'd been pointing to various places on the map in the war room. Apparently, she had visited the place once with the Hero of Ferelden, before they'd stopped the Fifth Blight. With the help of pictures in my book by Brother Genitivi, she described how it had looked before the Conclave's destruction.

_“When we discovered the temple, it had been built into the mountainside, far out of sight. Its halls had been claimed by a high dragon and her brood, so most of its beauty had been destroyed. But what remained was still a sight to behold. The walls were high and smooth, their surfaces veined with natural quartz that sparkled in the torchlight. The columns had been meticulously carved to represent key moments in Andraste's life, from her birth to the moment she ascended to the Maker's side. Her ashes had been guarded for ages by a guardian spirit, who would test those who approached by sending them through the Gauntlet. Only when you proved your worth were you allowed to take a pinch of Andraste's ashes, which were rumored to cure any illness.”_

It all sounded interesting, and definitely like something I'd need to ask her about later, but the description she had given me no longer matched reality.

Surrounded by tall spires of black crystals covered in dirt and streaked with green light, I felt like a rabbit among redwoods. The air buzzed with the Fade's magic, prickling my skin like constant waves of static electricity. Clouds circled overhead, turning from white to black to green as they spiraled towards the still-growing rip in the sky. The Breach itself was blindingly bright, a fire in the sky. The ground we walked was littered with bodies, frozen in terror and still smoking despite the passage of time. Bricks stuck up from the ground in rows, where walls had once stood. The farther in you got, the more carnage there was. And what's worse, red lyrium veins lined the walkway, though most have been shattered.

We had reached the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

On Cassandra's orders, the mages began forming lines around the Breach, careful to avoid the red lyrium deposits. Expressions ranged from nervous twitches to grim determination as staves were brought out. I was just a little nervous myself. For Lavellan's sake, Haven's sake, and especially the world's sake, I sincerely hoped this worked. This needed to work.

During the entire event, I stuck close to Lavellan's side. I watched as she reached for the Breach, as if to grasp it from the air, and sent a zip of magic upwards. The mages around us released all of their energy towards her, and she channeled it through herself and into the mark on her hand. The tear in the sky crackled and groaned at a deafening volume as the magic surged around it. For a moment, I thought I could smell something burning, like an overheating car engine. It would have worried me, but I couldn't look away as the edges of the Breach wavered and it started curling in on itself.

Then, with one last rumble, the rift was sealed. The Breach, much smaller than before, had been closed.

If I hadn't been half-deaf already, the cheers from the mages would have killed my poor ears. They whooped and hollered, some going as far as hugging the people next to them. The relief on their faces was mirrored on Lavellan's, and I couldn't help but feel a bubble of pride rise in my chest. I chattered happily and ran in circles around her legs until she picked me up, embracing me for the second time that day.

“We did it, Herah,” she whispered. “We really did it!”

I pressed my forehead to hers affectionately and purred, as if to say, _I knew you could do it!_ She laughed and pressed a quick kiss to the top of my head. Her movements were no longer tense like they had been earlier, and for that I was grateful. She deserved this victory. She deserved a night of relaxing. The stresses of the Inquisition needed to wait until tomorrow.

We returned to the valley with the mages, only to find the villagers and soldiers had already started celebrating. Five huge bonfires had been set up near the lake, each of them feeding flames that seemed to reach the sky. Several smaller pits were set up closer to the barracks, mostly for roasting rams and keeping the people warm.

Many of the civilians had put on their best clothes and started dancing, their joyous laughter echoing out over the lake. Quite a few of the Inquisition's soldiers had joined in the dancing as well, but some were content to sit around the fires and drink their ale. I could see a few of the more notable members of the Inquisition. Blackwall, Varric, and The Iron Bull sat among the soldiers by the fires, telling tales and guzzling their drinks. Sera flitted in and out of sight, a cheeky smile on her face whenever there was a shout of surprise a few campfires over. Of course, Madame Vivienne was nowhere in sight. She was probably in the Chantry, as usual. I didn't feel like hanging around her anyway. I had my eye on someone else.

After a brief chitter at Lavellan and Cassandra, I hopped down onto the dirt path and made my way towards the celebration. I was turned around twice before finding my way to The Iron Bull's campfire, arriving just as he let out a great booming laugh. I saw the joy on his face and couldn't help the tiny sigh that escaped me.

Gosh, he was handsome. That smile, those horns, the way his good eye twinkled when he was feeling mischievous... He was a good looking man. A part of me wanted to just walk over and sit down next to him, just to be close to him. Another part of me wanted to run over and somehow stake a claim on him, maybe hang a sign on his back that said “HERAH'S” in my terrible claw-writing. But that was creepy and definitely not something I should do.

I'd have to settle for sitting next to him for the time being.

When I finally approached the fire, Bull grinned and slapped the ground next to him with his free hand. “Herah! Come help us with the fire!” He gestured towards the fire, which had gone a little low, with the hand holding a large mug. I settled down next to him and, with probably a little too much enthusiasm, spat a fireball at the fire. Flames bloomed around old and fresh logs, red tongues reaching high for the stars above us. The soldiers around the pit shouted with delight and surprise, and I received a few respectful nods.

I would have chattered out a laugh at their responses, but before I could do anything, there was a hand on my back and I was in the air, landing squarely on Bull's bare shoulder after a split second. My claws barely found purchase before the offending hand disappeared, and I turned to glare at Krem, who had an arm around a lovely brunette tavern girl. I couldn't be mad at him, especially since he'd put me almost exactly where I'd wanted to be, so I settled for sticking my tongue out at him. He just winked at me and sat down where I'd been moments ago, his lady friend tucked against his other side.

“So, Chief,” the lieutenant asked, “now that the Breach is sealed, where will we be off to? Or will we stick around the Inquisition for the time being?”

“Oh, I'm sure they'll think of something for us to do, Krem de la Krem,” Bull replied. He chuckled as Krem's eyes narrowed at the use of one of his nicknames, and I let out a squeaky trill of a laugh. Bull turned his head and gave me a heart-stopping smile, and I swear I could have died happy right then and there. But instead of dying, I headbutted his scarred cheek and purred loudly.

It was almost funny. Back on Earth, I'd been a shy and quiet girl who played the cello and stuck to a strict nine o'clock curfew. I'd become more open and affectionate as a dragon. I wasn't regarded as creepy for my actions here. That kind of liberation was a huge change, and it felt amazing. I'd become someone different, and I never wanted to go back to my old self. It was moments like this that made me think about all I'd done to get this far, and about all the friends I'd made. It made me feel warm and happy inside.

If only that joy could have lasted the night.

First, a woman's scream rang out through the cold night air. Then, more cries joined the first. A crow flew overhead, its feathers singed by fire, squawking as it dove for Leliana's tent.

Then the fires in the village began, and a trail of lights appeared on the mountainside across the lake.

It didn't take a genius to figure things out.

We were under attack.


	15. The Battle of Haven

The camp exploded into action.

Soldiers dropped their drinks and took off towards the barracks, returning with their gear buckled on and their swords ready for use. The civilians who weren't scared stiff dashed for the safety of the Chantry; the petrified few remaining had to be shoved along until they remembered how their feet worked. The weakest and youngest mages were sent there as well. The rest of the mages picked up their staves and headed for the village.

Had the attack happened any other day, I'm sure we would have had an easier time fighting. No one would have been drunk, for one thing. The soldiers would have been finishing up their evening drills. Instead, they had been drinking and partying, their guards completely down.

We had let ourselves become sitting ducks.

It took me two seconds to figure out Bull would be fighting. One second he was dropping his mug of ale, and the next he was roaring at The Chargers to get their asses moving. I had to sink my claws into his shoulder just to keep from falling to the cold hard ground. If I hurt him, he didn't let it bother him. He just booked it for the village, enormous broadaxe at the ready.

The Chargers and I didn't get far. Lavellan and her advisors were already at the camp's gate, ushering the last of the civilians through the large wooden doors before slamming them shut. He ordered them to run for the Chantry, then turned to Lavellan and Cassandra.

“One watchguard reporting. It's a massive force, the bulk of it heading over the mountain. The village has been overrun with their scouts.” He pointed across the valley, where dozens upon dozens of lights were flickering into existence. Apparently the enemy felt no need to hide anymore.

As the group discussed battle plans, I found I couldn't tear my eyes from the mountainside. How had we missed such an enormous force forming on our doorstep? There were hundreds of lights now, and they were still appearing! We were going to be overrun before the sun rose.

Suddenly there was a loud pounding on the wooden gate, followed by a boy's shouts.

“Let me in! I can't come in unless you open!”

I felt my body go cold as my mind flooded with awful thoughts. Had we missed a civilian? Were there others out there who needed help? Were they being attacked now? We had to get the door open!

However, there was only one boy beyond the door; a slim stick of a teen wearing tattered clothes and an enormous hat. He immediately moved towards Lavellan.

“I'm Cole. I came to warn you, to help. People are coming to hurt you. You probably already know...”

“What's going on?! Who is attacking us?” Lavellan demanded.

“The Templars have come to kill you,” Cole replied quietly, his face hidden by the brim of his hat.

Cullen did not take his words well at all.

“Templars?!” he shouted at Cole, who shrank away from him and refused to meet his gaze. “Is this the Order's response to our talks with the mages? Attacking blindly?”

The boy simply shook his head and turned to Lavellan again. “The Red Templars went to the Elder One. You know him? He knows you.” He paused and pointed towards the path to Haven covered in flickering lights. “You took his mages.”

We all turned to look at the approaching army, and I felt my insides go cold. If I'd had a choice, I would have begged whatever gods were out there to send us some other kind of enemy. Rabid bears, werewolves, or even demons; I could have fought those with ease.

I wasn't prepared to fight the Red Templars.

Like a lot of things in Thedas, I wasn't familiar with the histories of all the people it contained. I'd read a little about Ferelden and Tevinter, of the Dwarves and the Dalish and even a little on the Qunari. What I knew about the Templars amounted to knowing they were the men and women who guarded and protected the mages who lived in the Circles, and that they were supposed to be a force of good. However, listening to the mages grumble about them while returning to Haven had showed me how the knights had become twisted and abusive towards those they had looked after.

The templars coming up the hill had been turned into monsters, pure and simple. Their bodies were covered in jagged clumps of red lyrium, veined with orange light that pulsed like a heartbeat. The more red lyrium was visible on their body, the more vicious they became. They were armed to the teeth with swords, shields, daggers, and even greataxes. As they moved forward, they sang their battle cries, their voices two-toned and off-key. They grated on my ears, and I shivered when they changed octaves.

I couldn't see very far, even from my position, but I knew the look of a leader when I saw it. The man, or whatever he was, stood at least four heads taller than any of his soldiers, dressed in black and red robes. His arms were unnaturally long and ended in what I hoped were just gloves with claws on them. The was another man next to him, wearing silver and red armor, who seemed to be laughing at us.

“He's very angry you took his mages,” Cole muttered.

I suddenly had the feeling that this battle would not end well for us.

Despite the grim outlook, Cullen proceeded to hand out orders. The mages were allowed to fight alongside the soldiers, and were advised not to take on the shorter Red Templar leader, Samson. The Chargers were asked to fight as well, which they were eager to do. And when Cullen raised his sword and began the charge, the battle truly began.

Bolts of every kind of magic flew through the air, all finding their marks on incoming Red Templars. Their armor deflected a few magical blows, but they fell just like any other man when a sword was put through their guts. Bull managed to take the heads off three of them with one swing of his broadaxe, blood gushing from the stumps of their necks and coloring the snow around them red. Madame Vivienne and Dorian had their backs to each other, freezing templars in their tracks so that Blackwall and Cassandra could cut them down. Solas and Lavellan used their magic to buff any soldier they could reach, while Varric and Sera consistently landed their arrows in enemy eye sockets. Our trebuchets were firing every chance they got, sending piles of rock and debris flying towards the mountain. With every launch, a dozen or so lights went out. I spent the majority of the battle dashing around the enemies' feet, slashing ankles – a neat tactic Bull had suggested after one of my morning hunts – with my claws or biting whatever I could get my teeth into. After a few rounds of that, I was covered in blood and spitting out gore.

It was the bloodiest battle I'd ever been in. I watched templar after templar fall, the red crystals on their bodies shattering as they hit the frozen ground. They didn't have magic on their side, but they had some of the best swordsmen and women. They were putting up one heck of a fight, but it was plain to see that we were winning.

It was only when I heard a familiar screech ring through the air that I knew we were screwed.

The nearest trebuchet exploded in a blast of red lightning, and I looked up just in time to see an enormous dragon flying overhead.

Of course the Elder One had a dragon. Of fucking course.

Cullen called the retreat immediately after that, knowing full well that we didn't stand a chance against both the Red Templars and a dragon. Once our soldiers and mages were through the gates, we shut and barred the doors. We were trapping ourselves, but what else could we do? We couldn't run, we'd only be surrounded and slaughtered out in the wilderness. And yet, the same thing would happen here if something wasn't done.

Inside the Chantry, everyone was panicking. Ex-Templars and mages were back at each others' throats again, and all we could do was keep them separated. They were scared, and blaming others was the only way for them to cope with the dire situation. Their anger made the room suffocating to be in. I kept close to the door, remaining out of sight.

The only person who wasn't panicking was Chancellor Roderick, who was being carried in by Cole. I didn't need to be close to him to know he was dying. I could smell the blood, could see the red stain on his robes spreading outwards from his stomach.

“He tried to stop a Templar,” Cole said quietly. “The blade went deep. He's going to die.”

I grimaced at the boy's words, but kept silent as he helped the Chancellor lay down near me. The old man's breathing was labored. Cole was right, he would probably die very soon. I didn't know the man very well, so I didn't really know how to feel. After all that fighting, just to see everything get fucked up by a dragon... I think I was in shock. I felt cold and tired and detached from the situation. Why was this happening? Why was the Elder One trying to fuck up the world so much? What would he gain from all this chaos?

As if sensing my confusion, the dragon outside screeched again, followed by the sound of something exploding. I moved away from the door to Lavellan's side, who was in the middle of a heated conversation with Cullen and Cole.

“The Elder One doesn't care about the village,” the strange boy said. “He only wants the Herald.”

“Why does he want me?” Lavellan asked. “If you know why, just say it.”

“I don't know. He's too loud. It hurts to hear him. But he'll crush anyone who gets in his way, kill them if he has to. I don't like him.”

“You don't like...?” Cullen scoffed, turning to Lavellan. “Herald, there are no tactics to make this survivable. The only thing that slowed them was the trebuchets' avalanches. We could turn the remaining ones, cause one last slide.”

Lavellan stared at the commander, her eyes wide. “Cullen, we're overrun. To hit the enemy, we'd bury Haven!”

“We're dying, but we can decide how.” He paused, then added, “Many don't get that choice.”

Before Lavellan could retort, Cole interrupted, “Chancellor Roderick can help. He wants to say it before he dies.”

As Cole stepped back, Roderick moved to stand, his hand pressing against the wound in his gut. He was in pain, but he forced himself to speak. “There is a path. You wouldn't know it unless you'd made the summer pilgrimage, as I have. The people can escape. She must have shown me. Andraste must have shown me so I could... tell you.” He wheezed again, blood staining his lips red. “If this simple memory can save us, this could be more than mere accident. _You_ could be more...”

Lavellan considered his words, her expression pinched in thought, then closed her eyes. “If that thing is here for me, then I'll make him fight for it.”

Looking at Lavellan now, I didn't see a trace of the scared girl I'd seen earlier that day. She seemed to stand a little taller, determination plainly written on her face. She wasn't going to let us die here, even if that meant she had to risk death herself.

She was amazing.

Without thinking, I ran to her side and sat next to her feet. If she was going out there, then I was going out there too. I couldn't wind up a trebuchet, but I could help keep the Red Templars off her back. She'd need all the help she could get.

The Herald looked down at me, surprised and a little confused. “Herah... you want to come with me?”

I nodded and let out a firm chirp.

“You know what that means, right? There's a chance that we...”

I reached out and latched my claws onto her pant leg, chirping one more time. If we were all going to die here, then I wanted to die fighting alongside my friend.

She smiled and picked me up, allowing me to sit on her shoulder as she readied her staff. I glanced at The Iron Bull, who was busy keeping the mages and ex-templars from killing each other. If we'd had more time, I would've loved to have learned more about him. If the gods in this world were merciful, maybe they'd give me another chance to be with him, if only just to talk to him.

Before I could call out to him, Lavellan turned and ran from the Chantry, its warmth and light replaced by heavy snow and fierce winds. I clung to her shoulder, hearing Cullen's last words ringing in my ears.

_Let them hear you._

Oh, I'd let them hear me, alright.

Battling our way to the last trebuchet seemed to be more difficult than the earlier battle. Without other soldiers to keep the enemy busy, we were quickly accosted by group after group of Red Templars. The Inquisition soldiers Cullen had sent with us proved to be invaluable, as they kept the enemy blades away from me and Lavellan. In turn, we zapped and scorched every monster in our way, crippling them so the soldiers could strike blow after fatal blow.

By the time we got to the trebuchet, we were all a little scuffed up but otherwise unharmed. The soldiers got to work loading up the trebuchet, and Lavellan and I guarded their backs. A few Red Templars came our way, but they didn't stand a chance when Lavellan froze them and I went for their Achilles's tendon.

The worst monster appeared just before we got the trebuchet lined up, when the ground began to shake.

At first, I thought maybe the dragon had landed nearby and was prowling around. Then an enormous red lyrium creature lurched into the clearing, swinging its giant crystal club arm at us. The monster crushed two of our soldiers with it before we could fire off any magic, and even then our fire and ice spells barely did anything.

_Let them hear me._

As it advanced upon us, I felt something in my throat gurgle. It felt like I had bile stuck in my esophagus. I reared back my head and coughed to dislodge it.

Instead, I let out a bloodcurdling scream that sent the red lyrium behemoth toppling backwards and stunned the smaller Red Templars around us. Lavellan took the chance to pull out her spare dagger and fade-step to each enemy, slitting each throat with cold precision. I would have been impressed if I hadn't been utterly confused as to what I'd just done. Where the hell had that scream come from?

A similar scream filled the air the moment Lavellan lined up the trebuchet, signalling the approach of the dragon. The elf shouted at the remaining Inquisition soldiers to run as fast as they could back to the Chantry, but the winged beast let loose a jet of red lightning from its mouth, directly hitting the soldiers. They burst into crystals before they could even move. The resulting explosion knocked me and Lavellan off our feet, and we hit the ground with a pair of pained grunts. The world around us crackled and popped, a sign that something close by had caught on fire. I sincerely hoped it wasn't the trebuchet.

“Herah, come on,” Lavellan urged, rolling onto her side to shake me gently. I was still seeing stars, but they cleared up a bit after I shook my head. That dragon really packed a punch, even when it missed.

“Herah, get up. We have to watch for - _fenedhis!_ ”

I would have given her a confused look – I still wasn't familiar with the Elven language – but I was distracted by the figure approaching us through the fire.

At least ten feet tall and grotesque, the Elder One was not dressed in robes like I'd assumed. He was wearing the remains of a robe around his waist, and wore wing-like pauldrons on his shoulders. His chest was bare of any armor, but a huge piece of metal jutted out from his ribs. His hands were huge, his fingers encased in crystal claws that reflected the fire that surrounded him. He was more red lyrium than anything. Spikes of the stuff sprouted out from his face and curved around his head like a helmet of sorts. Not to mention his face was covered in scars.

Suffice to say, the Elder One was _much_ uglier up close.

I didn't get to dwell on his ugliness for long though. His dragon swooped down from the sky and landed hard on the ground behind us, effectively trapping us. Its face was nearly skeletal, its flesh and scales pulled so tightly over the bones that its skin might split at a touch. Shards of red lyrium grew from its body, giving it an almost bone-like armor. Teeth as long as a human finger filled its mouth, each razor-sharp and ready to pierce. It screamed at us, and I could have sworn every bone in my tiny body rattled at the sound.

This was a true dragon.

“Enough!”

I turned to look at the Elder One once more, my heart thundering in my chest. Was this it? Were we going to die here?

The Elder One glowered at Lavellan, his gaze nothing but malice and greed.

“Pretender,” he called out, “you toy with forces beyond your ken. No more.”

Lavellan hefted her staff, ready to strike. “What are you? Why are you doing this?”

The monster before us continued to glare.

“Mortals beg for truth they cannot fathom. It is beyond what you are, what I was. Know me. Know what you have pretended to be.” He took a step forward, the crystals in his head shining in the fire's light. “Exalt the Elder One! The will that is Corypheus! You will kneel.”

I growled at him, despite the fear growing in my chest. He was the one who wanted to kill the Empress of Orlais. He was the one who wanted to raise a demon army. We couldn't let him walk away from this. If this plan worked, we would be saving the world from him.

“I will not yield to the likes of you!” Lavellan shouted.

“You will resist. You will always resist, but it matters not.” Corypheus held up his left hand, a large orb sitting in his palm. It crackled with the same red lightning the dragon behind us breathed. I crouched, ready to dodge whatever he was casting. Lavellan did the same.

“I am here for the Anchor,” he continued. “The process of removing it begins now.”

His right hand shot out towards Lavellan, his fingers arching with light. Lavellan's marked hand lit up with green light, and she cried out as she gripped her wrist. What was he doing?! Was he trying to rip her hand off? As Corypheus spoke, I looked confusedly between the two of them. How could I help Lavellan? There had to be something I could do!

Mustering my courage, I screeched at Corypheus and lunged for his outstretched arm. My mouth closed around his wrist, but I couldn't sink my teeth in more than half an inch. I tasted foul blood and lightning before Corypheus flung me away. I landed in a heap at the base of the trebuchet, the wind knocked from my lungs and my teeth buzzing like a cell phone.

“What a foolish little beast, to stand against me. You will meet the same fate as your beloved Herald in a moment.”

I watched helplessly as Corypheus advanced on Lavellan, grabbing her roughly by the wrist before hoisting her up into the air. Her hand was still blazing with light, but now the green was laced with red. I tried to force myself to my feet, but I felt unbelievably weak. He was going to kill her! I had to move! Why couldn't I move??

“I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own, to champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world,” Corypheus continued, holding Lavellan close to his face. “Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the gods, and it was empty!”

With barely any effort, he flung the elf towards the trebuchet. Her back hit the wooden platform with a loud smack, and she fell to the ground beside me with a whimper. Shit, that sounded bad. We needed to get out of here immediately.

“The Anchor is permanent,” the man said with a sneer. Lavellan sucked in a harsh breath and grabbed her staff, leaning heavily on it as she crept towards the trebuchet's trigger. If Corypheus saw it, he made no move to stop her. “You have spoiled it with your stumbling. So be it. I will begin again, find another way to give this world the nation – and god – it requires.”

A sharp whistle sang through the air, bringing my attention to the valley's northern pass. A flare had gone up, signaling the others' safety. Lavellan laughed quietly above me, and I looked up to see her giving Corypheus a smug grin.

“And you,” he added. “I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You must die.”

“You expect me to fight, but that's not why I kept you talking,” she said. Bending over, she scooped me up under one arm and kicked the trebuchet's trigger, launching the boulder towards the mountain closest to Haven.

The effect was nearly instantaneous.

The trebuchet's boulder landed against the mountainside with a thundering crack, dislodging layer upon layer of heavy snow and ice. It all came sliding down at a rapid pace, distracting Corypheus long enough for the two of us to make a run for a nearby mineshaft. The dragon screamed at our backs, but we didn't turn to look. We just kept running until the ground below us opened up, and we dropped like a pair of stones into the darkness.


	16. "I can do this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this was one of my favorite chapters to write. Action! Flashbacks! Blood! What more could you ask for? Let's get this show on the road!

When I awoke after the fall, I saw only dim light and piles of snow. The mineshaft was silent around me, save for the sound of breathing. My entire body felt like one giant aching knot, but I knew it could have been worse. Thank goodness for snowbanks. If it hadn't stormed recently, there might not have been enough snow to cushion our fall. Then again, the hole above me was full of snow and rocks, kept in place by a few conveniently placed wooden beams. Without them, we would have been crushed.

Careful not to stress any new injuries, I dug myself out of my divot in the snow and shook myself off. We'd really faced The Elder One head on... Corypheus. He'd attacked Haven while we had been celebrating, and had taken countless lives before forcing us to bury the village under a mountain's worth of snow. As far as I knew, everyone who had taken shelter in the Chantry had gotten away, thanks to Chancellor Roderick's knowledge. Only Lavellan and I had escaped the avalanche.

But had Corypheus and his dragon been buried? Something told me he wouldn't be deterred by something as simple as a thick coating of snowflakes.

I turned my attention to Lavellan, who was laying face-up next to me and breathing shallowly. She didn't have many bleeding injuries; a small cut on her head looked like the worst. It had bled for a bit, dripping into her hair and matting it until it froze. I couldn't tell if she'd sustained any internal injuries, so I could only hope for the best.

Purring just enough for her to hear me, I nudged her cheek with my snout. She wasn't unconscious; she was making too much noise for that. It looked like she was more dazed than anything. I increased my purring until she opened her bleary moss green eyes.

“Ha...Herah? Wha...” she slowly sat up in the snow, her eyes a little glassy. She winced when she tried to move her left arm. “ _Fenedhis!_ It's dislocated. I'll need help setting it.”

I cooed at her, sniffing at the small potion pouch on her belt. It took a little maneuvering, since it was hanging off her left side, but eventually she got the flap open. Turns out, luck wasn't on our side. Whatever potions she'd had on her when we fell were smashed to pieces, the pouch's lining studded with glass pieces and slick with blue and red liquids. So much for that idea.

“Looks like we'll need to find our way out of here. Do you think there's an exit close by?”

I stomped my feet and let out a quiet chirp, turning to look down the open tunnel. It was our only option, considering the way we'd come was now full of snow and ice.

Lavellan pressed a hand to her temple, clearly dealing with an incoming headache, but nodded. “I know, it's worth a shot. Better than staying here anyway.”

Using her staff for support, she managed to get to her feet with minimal wobbling. She tried to summon a small bit of light to brighten our path, but she nearly swooned at the effort. If she didn't have access to her magic, then it was up to me to light our way. I walked ahead of her, gathered fire in my mouth, and held it there. It helped considerably, and allowed us to begin moving forward.

The tunnel itself was in decent condition. It hadn't collapsed, which I was extremely happy to see, but there were still piles of rocks every ten feet that I had to warn Lavellan not to trip on. Most of the support beams the previous miners had installed were still in place. There were only rats to keep us company, and I was happy to warn them away with a growl and a little fire. They scattered, and we were allowed to walk in relative peace.

“You have my thanks, Herah,” the elf said quietly. I glanced back at her, the fire in my throat giving her features a shadowy sharpness. “I thought I was mad for trying to face The Elder One on my own, but you... When you volunteered to go with me, I thought you were mad. But I am glad you did. I am glad you are with me.”

I tried to purr to show my affection, but only succeeded in belching a little fire at the nearest wall. As I regained control of our only light source, Lavellan giggled. “Perhaps Mythal is looking after the both of us,” she added.

In her distraction, her staff knocked against a rock, sending a sudden jolt up her good arm. “ _Fenedhis!_ ” she cursed, gritting her teeth. “Perhaps I should pray for a healing potion next. Oh, what I wouldn't give for a few elfroot leaves...”

I would have suggested checking her herb pouch, and maybe giving me a few leaves as well, but she'd left it with the apothecary after she returned to Haven. She'd need to have a new one made as soon as we made it out of the damn mine.

It wasn't long before our feet started crunching in fresh snow, telling us the mine's exit was within reach. When I felt the wind on my face like a cold slap to the cheek, I knew we were outside. Above us, the clouds were thick and quickly rolling over the moon, taking any and all light with it.

“Where's the Breach?”

I turned my head, watching Lavellan stumble in the shin-deep snow. She righted herself with her staff before I could make my way back to her, and began scanning the sky. “The mages helped as best they could, but the Breach didn't fully close. If we can find it in the sky, or at least a hint of where it was, we could head northward, in the direction of Cullen's earlier signal.”

Oh damn, that wasn't a bad idea. Would it work?

Dousing my fire for a bit, I turned my eyes to the skies as well. It was dark without the moon, but it wasn't too difficult to find that familiar wisp of green light hiding behind the clouds. It was faint, but still very much there. I nudged Lavellan in it's direction, after which she pointed us towards a mountain not too far in the distance. I trusted her completely, but still couldn't help the nerves gnawing at my belly. Was this the right direction, or were we heading in the opposite direction?

After what felt like a hour of walking, I began to worry about Lavellan's condition. She wasn't falling over every few steps, but she was starting to wobble more as time passed. Her eyes were still glassy, but she was making a constant effort to keep on her feet. Did she have a concussion? I wished I had paid attention in health class. Then again, you couldn't do much for a concussion on your own, could you? We needed to get to the Inquisition's healer, or any healer whatsoever.

That look on her face. She was trying her hardest to be brave.

I’d seen that look before.

* * *

“I can do this.”

Standing in front of my bedroom mirror, I tugged the hem of my sweater down as I said those words over and over again. I couldn’t help as my hands traveled slowly over the now-visible changes to my body. My hips had grown too wide for my jeans to contain, forcing me to forgo my usual skinny jeans in favor of sweatpants with drawstrings. My breasts were starting to fill out as well, suddenly going up half a cup size within a month. If things went well with my parents, I’d have to ask about going shopping.

I pulled the fabric taut against my baby bump, hoping that the slight pressure would tell the baby to stop growing. I wanted to appeal to my mother and father’s pity, or at least whatever sympathetic emotions they had left in their caffeine-addled bodies. Hopefully Zach would arrive before they came home from work. If I was really lucky, he’d show up before I had another bout of nausea.

Sucking in a deep breath, I willed the butterflies in my stomach to stop flipping out. “I can do this,” I said again, meeting my gaze in the mirror. My blue grey eyes were reflected back at me, filled with hope and fear and a good bit of nervousness. I hadn’t slept well the night before, and had spent a good part of the morning imagining all the horrible things that could go wrong today. No, I couldn’t let those thoughts return.

Today was the day.

Today was the day I would tell my mother and father I was going to have a baby.

My cell phone tittered at me from its spot on my dresser, buzzing three times before belting out the lyrics from a cheesy love song. A quick glance at it revealed it was Zach, my boyfriend and the father if my child, calling. I swiped the answer button across the screen and pressed the phone to my ear.

“Zach, where are you?” I asked, my tone sounding a little more whiny than I’d have liked. “You said you’d be here ten minutes ago! Are you in traffic? Please tell me you’re less than five minutes away. I think I’m about to throw up from nerves!”

“Yeah, Magpie, about that… Are you sure you want to do this?” His voice crackled in my ear as the signal wavered, and I moved to the window to try and strengthen it.

“Of course we need to do this! We can’t put this off forever, or they’ll figure it out themselves and go ballistic!” I tucked the phone against my shoulder, freeing my other hand to pick at a loose thread on my sleeve. Scanning the roads visible from my window, I couldn’t see Zach’s blue BMW or my parents’ black and silver Porsches. Everyone seemed to be running late today. Just my luck. “I think we’ve put this off for long enough.”

“No, hon… I mean…-” he grunted on the other end “-I mean, do you really want to… y’know, keep it?”

If my phone had been in my hand, I probably would have dropped it.

“Wh-what?! Zach, do you know what you’re saying? I’m not going to-”

“We’re not ready to be parents!” he blurted out, voice cracking like a kid’s. “You’re seventeen, and I’m eighteen! I have a scholarship to Yale! Aren’t you on track for a scholarship to Juilliard next year? I mean, are you really okay with having a screaming, shitting thing for the next twenty years?!”

I was floored. I could feel the color drain from my entire body and puddle on the floor, leaving me a pasty white ghost in a burgundy sweater. The world suddenly felt unbearably off-balance, and I sat down hard on the edge of my bed as my head spun in nauseating circles. My sweater had ridden up my belly slightly, exposing a slim line of tan skin just above my sweatpants.

Zachary, the boy who had kissed me under the mistletoe at the school’s silly winter dance, the boy who had been my first time, the boy I could see myself marrying in a few years, was telling me to give up our baby.

My mind was in turmoil. I barely registered the sound of the garage door opening as I sat there, staring at the blue sky beyond my window. Zach was yammering away in my ear, his voice panicking now, and I tuned back into his words.

“-okay? Hey, Mags, are you still there? Talk to me! What do you think?”

“...go sit on a cactus.”

“What? What’d you say? I can’t hear you, the signal’s fuzzy.”

“I said that you should go shove the biggest, widest, prickliest cactus up your ass!” I screamed into the phone’s microphone. Tears were gathering at the corners of my eyes, and I scrubbed roughly at them with my sweater sleeve.  “And then, while you’re at it, spin a few hundred times! Fuck you, we are done! I never want to see you again, you selfish bastard!!”

I’d later realize that it was about 40% hormones talking at that moment, but it felt good to say it. I hung up on him before he could get in a word. I didn’t need him to raise a child. If anything, he’d just make it harder. And if he hadn’t been so eager to have a kid, he should’ve thought more with his head instead of his dick. Then again, I could’ve done other things to prevent a baby. It was on both our heads, but it wasn’t right to just… kill it.

Turning towards my mirror, I looked myself in the eyes once more. Red and puffy eyes stared back, but there was an odd clarity in that gray gaze that hadn’t been there before. After that little explosion of emotions, I was feeling calm and collected, though I could already feel the nervous butterflies returning. I didn’t have much time left before I had another freakout.

“I can do this.”

Leaving my phone pinging away on my bed, I hurried out of my room and down the hall just as my father was entering his study. He raised an eyebrow at my appearance, but didn’t speak.

“Father, I uh... I’d like to talk to you and mother about something important.”

If only I’d known that, by winter of that year, my parents would have decided my future for me.

* * *

Forcing away my memories, I focused on the present long enough to notice Lavellan had stopped walking. No, it wasn't that she'd stopped walking; she had fallen to her knees a few feet back.

I made my way back to her as quickly as I could, my claws gaining no traction in the heavy snow. It was falling faster now, and the elf had a thin coat of it soaking into the back of her clothes. Her gaze was unfocused and she was constantly squinting her eyes, as if she were thinking about a difficult subject. I chattered at her, trying to get her to stand up again and keep walking, but her eyes slid over me like I wasn't even there.

When she threw up, I flew into a panic. I had to get her to a healer immediately! If this was really a concussion and she ended up falling asleep, she might not wake up! Or she could get serious brain damage!! I had to move her. I couldn't give up!

Ignoring the vomit on the ground, I got underneath her and pushed up on her chest, trying to give her some leverage to get to her feet. She moaned and leaned forward, as if to begin crawling, but she collapsed as she put weight onto her left shoulder. Her body fell onto mine, crushing me like a sack of potatoes. I squawked and flailed my limbs, but couldn't move. Lifting her would be like lifting five times my own weight. I didn't have the strength to do that.

Out of sheer frustration, I let out an ear-piercing scream. I'd wanted to help Lavellan by going with her, but now I couldn't even move her! How was I supposed to be her friend when I couldn't even make sure she got to safety?! I wanted to do something, anything, just to make sure she would be alright! I needed to be bigger! _I wanted to be bigger!!_

As I let out another scream, I felt something in my chest break with a dull pop. It almost felt like a bone was snapping back into place. My voice caught in my throat and I choked on the air in my lungs. Pain blossomed inside me, spreading from my head to my toes in a flash. It was like I was catching on fire. Everything, from my muscles to the marrow of my very bones, hurt all at once. Even my teeth seemed to hurt. It was enough to make my head spin and my vision blur. The world seemed to shrink under me, and I forced myself to get my feet underneath me. My claws dug into the snow, creating gouges that looked far bigger than they should have been.

By the time I regained my senses, the snow beneath me was turning red, blood spreading out beneath me like a rug. The smell of it filled my nose, and I let out another scream, only to find that my voice was different. It was deeper, more of a roar than a chirp. I was questioning my ears when I heard a quiet moan from my back.

Swiveling my head around, I looked down to see Lavellan was slung over me lengthwise, her arms dangling just behind my own. She looked so small for some reason. Her toes barely touched the top of the snow.

No, it wasn't that she was smaller now.

I was just bigger.

How the world had that happened?!

I wanted to question what had just happened, to figure out if I'd used magic or just made a deal with a demon, but couldn't keep still. I had the chance to get Lavellan to safety, and this was how I was going to do it.

I couldn't let this blessing, or curse, go to waste. I wasn't going to let Lavellan slip away.

Walking as quickly as I dared to go, I pressed onwards into the storm, constantly keeping an eye on the elf on my back. The snow didn't get worse, but it still fell around us. I kept the fire in my throat going for as long as I could in an attempt to keep Lavellan warm, yet she still shivered when the wind picked up.

When her shivering turned nearly violent, I forced myself to pick up the pace. Time was running out, and I was feeling worse with every step I took. I felt as if I had shards of glass embedded in every muscle I used. Pain shot its way up my legs every time I took a step, and blood seeped from several large wounds around my joints. Not only was my friend in trouble now, but I was as well.

If I didn't find the rest of the Inquisition soon, we'd both be dead.

Soon, I began to find remnants of people. First, there were old tracks covered in so much snow that they were barely more than dips. But they were evenly spaced out, and following them led to a cluster of tracks wide enough to fit ten people walking side by side. Then came the discarded objects and abandoned carts with broken wheels. I might have seen the shape of a body hidden beneath a layer of white, but I didn't stop. I couldn't bring myself to check and see if I knew them.

A few more minutes of walking, and I was just about ready to give up. My feet were so cold they were practically ice cubes, and every time my claws met the frozen ground I wondered if they could possibly fall off from the cold. Could dragons lose their claws to frostbite like a human loses their fingers and toes? I didn't want to find out, but I knew my limit was approaching fast. Whatever adrenaline I'd had from my transformation had long since worn off, leaving me with a body that was filled with more pain than cold. But I couldn't give up. I had to keep going.

The moment I managed to ignore the pain was the moment I saw the light of a fire. It wasn't too far, maybe another ten minutes of walking, and it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I couldn't help the bark of joy I let out as I took off at a faster pace than before. Lavellan moaned at the rough ride, but I couldn't slow down anymore. We were nearly there!

Someone must have heard my cries, because soon the path was blocked by a group of people. I couldn't be sure who they were with the fire's light behind them, but they sounded and smelled familiar. It had to be Inquisition scouts! I slowed as I approached, chattering softly and trying to seem small.

“Maker's mercy, it's a dragon! Another dragon's found us and come to kill us!” one of them cried, his voice cracking like a pubescent boy's.

A man next to the boy clapped him on the shoulder once before brandishing his sword at me. “Go and get the Commander!” he shouted. “The rest of us will keep it busy! Go!”

The boy scampered off, nearly tripping on his sword as he disappeared over the hill. The scouts advanced on me, and I chattered at them several times before turning to the side and nudging the elf barely clinging to my back. The sounds of gasps and swords being sheathed filled the air as four grown men took one look at Lavellan and began flipping their shit.

“It's the Herald! She's alive!”

“Maker's balls, we need the healer! Let's get her to the healer!!”

Lavellan was pulled from my back and carried into the camp as quickly and carefully as possible. I watched as the scouts moved ahead, each of them praising the Maker and Andraste and whatever other gods they worshiped. Meanwhile, I felt myself reach my mental and physical limits. The last of my energy drained away just as I stepped into the light of the camp and took in the sight of hundreds of people emerging from their tents, hearing the news of the Herald's survival.

As I took another step, I felt something in my side tear as my world shifted sideways. I landed in a heap at the top of the hill, nearly frozen to death and still bleeding out. I felt hurt and tired and woozy, and I just wanted to rest. Yes, I'd just have a nap. That couldn't hurt, right? I let out a keening yawn and let my vision unfocus, my mind drifting peacefully towards sleep. I saw a large grey shape lumbering up the hill towards me, shouting things I no longer had the mind to understand.

Then, I felt warmth. Hands pressed to my side, to my neck and legs, to anything with a wound. I felt pain in the back of my mind, like a sharp pinprick on a fingertip, but didn't flinch. I had no energy to react. All I could do was lay there and think about how nice it would be to sleep.

A hand came into view suddenly, calloused and grey and missing part of two fingers. It grabbed me by the snout and carefully turned my head until the rest of the hand's body came into focus.

The Iron Bull. He turned to his side, looking down at a white shape next to him. I slowly attached the face to a name; Lady Vivienne. She was kneeling over me with her hands just above my scales, a soft green light blooming from her palms. I felt a little of my mind pull back from the fog, but it brought with it a mountain of pain. I tensed every muscle I still had control of, only to end up screaming as the sensation of broken glass under my skin returned full force. It quickly grew to be too much for me to handle.

I passed out right then and there, with Bull still holding me and Vivienne still healing me. I was half frozen and covered in blood, but somehow still alive.


	17. Somehow Still Alive

The next time I opened my eyes, I was the definition of disoriented. My eyes refused to open at first, lids heavy and stuck together with sleep. When I managed to get them partially open, I saw nothing but smears of black and white with blurry patches of color thrown in. I couldn’t keep my gaze still, even when I saw familiar shapes crowding around me. My hearing came next, but that was as useful as my sight. Voices were mumbles to me, barely audible over the ringing in my head. Everything seemed to be vibrating, as if my head was full of angry bees desperate to get out.

I drifted for a long time, I think. Or at least it felt like a long time. My mind would come back to me and leave just as quickly, like the ebb and flow of the ocean tide. When the waves crashed down, I was overcome with an awful burning sensation under every scale and in every joint. Eventually the burn would calm into a dull throbbing, and I would fall back asleep again.

Not that I would have called it sleep. It was more like I would simply cease to exist for a bit. Everything would go dark, the ringing in my ears would go away, and I would just float for a bit in the darkness. It was a nice break from the pain. But then I would feel a pull in my chest - like someone was grabbing my by the heart and dragging me back into the world - and the ringing would return as I opened my eyes.

However, I wasn't able to float forever. I had to wake up eventually, and when I did, it wasn't entirely pleasant.

It took some effort to keep my vision from spinning, and when I regained control, I realized I was in a tent. The walls around me were a heavy cloth that shifted and pulled away when the wind howled. The ground beneath me was hard, but wasn't cold. The inside of the tent was lit with several globes of light, each of them hovering near the supporting posts.

When I shifted my head to the right, I was met with the sight of a very battered and bandaged Lavellan lying on a low cot next to me. For some reason, she seemed smaller than I remembered. Her eyes were closed, but her face was relaxed. Relief washed over me, causing my throat to close up as I forced back the urge to cry. Thank the gods or whatever was out there, Lavellan was okay. She was okay! I had succeeded in getting her to safety!

Which meant everything that had happened…

Gathering as much energy as I could, I lifted my head and turned to look at myself. I barely contained my whimpers as the burning sensation under my scales returned again, and they all but escaped when I got a good look at myself.

Comparing my previous size and my current size would be like comparing a chihuahua and a full grown St. Bernard. My once-tiny legs were now four feet long and gangly, covered in half-healed scars that stretched around my joints and down to my toes. There were more scars along my neck, sides, and tail. I was around ten feet long, from my nose to the spiked tip of my tail. Almost half of my scales were missing, exposing the soft flesh beneath them. The scales that remained were in various states of growth; some were fully exposed and brand new, others were poking out from under a thin layer of skin and nearly ready to come out.

Right then, it hit me just how much I was hurting. Every one of those scales stung like a needle digging into my skin, and there were thousands of new ones growing all over me. I let out a pained noise, a low whine that sounded more like a wheeze, and tried to get up, but the simplest movement sent a spasm of fire through my body. I collapsed before I could get an inch off the ground.

As I whined again, a shadow hurried in through the tent’s flap and knelt over me. When I focused on it, I could see it was a woman, a tiny wisp of a girl, dressed in slightly singed mage robes and a heavy wool cloak. Her hair was dark brown, almost black, and her skin was dusted lightly with freckles. Her ears, delicately pointed, were partially hidden in her hair. She was an elf, like Lavellan and Solas.

“Shhhh. _An’eth, isenatha. Lasamah ladas mar’dinasala_ ,” she whispered softly. Her hands glided over my side, bathing me in a calming blue light. My skin was hypersensitive wherever she touched, but her hands were gentle. As she worked, I felt a pleasant numbness spread through me, from the tip of my tail to the remaining scales on my nose. I couldn’t move, but I could feel my body healing under the influence of her magic.

That made five elves I knew now, including Fiona and Dalish, who used magic. Skinner was the only one who didn’t show any signs of being a mage. Were most elves mages? Did they all have magic and choose not to use it? If I asked Lavellan and Solas, would they know the answers to my questions?

When the healer finally stepped away, I could feel my exhaustion catching up to me. She gave me another pleasant smile and turned away, her fingertips still glowing blue as she began checking on Lavellan. Trusting her to do her job, I turned my head away and resigned myself to a deep sleep. This time there was no floating in the darkness or ringing in my ears; only blissful peace and quiet.

The next time I awoke, the world was a little less blurry. One of the tent flaps had been pulled back, and I could see the sun setting through the opening. The sky was bright with orange and pink clouds, and the breeze that wafted through the tent carried the smell of burning fires. I could hear the chatter of people close by, their voices turning into a soothing drone as I gathered my wits. Would I be able to move around today, or maybe even walk? There was only one way to find out.

Shifting my weight around a bit, I managed to roll myself so that my feet were underneath me. My skin burned where scales pressed against raw skin, but I powered through it, all too eager to see the world outside the tent. My first steps were shaky, as I expected. The muscles in my legs were tired and unused from the time I had slept. Not to mention I had to be at least three hundred pounds now.

Still, the thought of getting out of the tent spurred me on, and as I neared the entrance, I felt a strange sense of elation wash over me. Despite all the pain and sorrow I had dealt with in the last week, I had gotten past it. It had to have been through sheer luck or force of will, or perhaps a combination of the two, that I'd conquered it all, and had saved Lavellan’s life.

By the time I stepped over the tent’s threshold, the sky had turned a deep orange, the pink I’d seen before had been replaced with a reddish hue that reminded me of my old cello’s coloring. I felt a pang of homesickness then, the many memories of playing my cello bubbling up in my chest. How long had I been gone from Earth? I’d lost track of the days after a month had passed. My world had spiralled out of normalcy and into the incredible, filled to the brim with magic and fighting and confusion. I hadn’t given any thought to Aunt Ellen or my family in a long time, or at least not since my dreams with Solas. But those dreams had been out of my control, projected from my subconscious into the Fade. Did Aunt Ellen miss me? How long would it take her to start worrying about me? Would she go to my cabin one day, only to find nothing missing except for me? Had she called the police?

“Hands wrinkled and soft, smelling of cedar and spice. A calm voice telling me that I am safe, that I am home.”

I glanced to my left to see the odd boy from Haven standing next to me, watching me with eyes as clear as crystal, as if they could look right through me. His hands knotted over and over as he spoke, his voice barely a whisper. What was his name… Cole? What was he talking about? I stared at him in confusion before his words click with my mind. He did this before, in the Chantry in Haven. It was like he was reading my thoughts, answering my questions before I could ask them.

He continued his whispered speech, his eyes glued to me. “Gentle touch to my cheek, a quilt draped around sunken shoulders as she speaks of safety. The cup of tea in my hand is warm, its dark leaves settling at the bottom. I miss her greatly. Will she worry for me? Will she be sad that I am gone?”

He was reading my thoughts out loud, like he’d done with Chancellor Roderick.

He was speaking loud enough for anyone to hear.

Without thinking, I let out a fierce snarl, baring as many teeth as I could. I turned away from the sunset and stalked towards him, fury burning hotter than the pain of regrowing my scales. How dare he peek into my mind! My thoughts were private, not to be shared with anyone! If anyone were to find out about me… Oh god, how would I explain it?!

“Herah?”

Reluctantly taking my eyes from Cole, I turned to see Dorian trudging through the snow towards me, a surprised look on his tanned face. Despite the fact that he was bundled up in a thick wool cloak, his nose and cheeks were red from the cold. Like Lavellan, he seemed shorter than before. At my full height, my head was at level with his heart, so I only needed to tilt my head back a little to look him in the eyes.

“Simply astounding! You’re already on your feet! Dragons are an amazing species, I’ll give you that.” He paused, then eyed the hill over my shoulder. “Anything in particular you were looking at? You seemed focused on something over there. You didn’t see any Red Templars, did you?”

Turning once more, I found that the spot where Cole had been standing was now empty, with not even a footprint to mark his passing. What the hell?! Did the kid not touch the snow or something? Had I been seeing things? Was I hallucinating? Maybe I needed more sleep after all…

Dorian hummed and lifted his bundled-up shoulders in a shrug. “Well, whatever you saw seems to have vanished. Instead of standing here, freezing our feet off, how about we go and get warm again? The Iron Bull should be returning soon with dinner, though I’m not sure I can stomach another night of ram steak. Too much red meat can be a nightmare for the body. You know, I once met a man who ate nothing but red meat. He…”

I half-tuned out Dorian as we made our way towards the fires. We moved at a snail’s pace, my limbs having a tough time keeping up with Dorian’s long legs. I’d had enough trouble keeping up with people with itty bitty legs. Now I was stuck with gangly legs that had about as much coordination as a toddler’s limbs. I looked more like a baby horse than a dragon. That, and I kept slipping in the snow. The only benefit to the snow was that it helped numb my skin a bit, and that let me concentrate more on not tripping over my own claws.

When we finally reached the first fire, I was greeted by the sight of Varric sitting near it, ashes flying from the fire to settle on his snow-crusted cloak. He looked tired, judging from the lines on his face and the shadows beneath his eyes. Had he been sleeping? No, I doubted anyone had been getting much sleep after Haven.

Upon our approach, he looked up and laughed, a grin making his face seem ten times younger. “Well shit, look who’s still breathing! Good to see you’re up and about, Herah.” He lifted a gloved hand and reached out to scratch me under the chin. The thick fabric was rough on my exposed skin, but it felt oddly good. If he had continued scratching me, my leg would have started twitching like a dog’s. But I shook his hand loose and started writing words in the snow.

_How long was I out?_

“Not long, only three days. Same as the Herald,” the dwarf said as he turned back to the fire. “You know, you scared the shit out of half the camp when you came up over that hill, ten times your normal size and covered in blood. Most of us didn’t even realize it was you until we got close.” He side-eyed me for a moment, light brown eyes glinting mirthfully in the firelight. “How’d you grow so fast anyway? Some kind of spell?”

“From what I can tell,” Dorian interrupted, “it doesn’t seem like she’s under a spell. I can sense some magic around her, but it feels the same as when she breathes fire. Normal stuff.”

“Weird. That doesn’t explain all those cuts and all her scales falling off.”

I chattered at them at that, and turned their attention to my writing in the snow.

_They didn’t fall off. I just grew._

“You...just grew?” Dorian raised a perfect eyebrow at me. “Is that some kind of dragon magic? Can you change your size anytime you like?”

I thought back to when I’d transformed, and how I’d gone through the worst pain I’d ever felt before. A chill struck me then, traveling up and down my spine until I physically shook it off. I grumbled and shook my head.

_Don’t know._

Both Dorian and Varric let out matching sighs, looking tired all of a sudden.

“Let’s save this subject for another time. Maybe when Solas returns from wherever he went,” Varric muttered.

Solas had left? I quickly scanned the camp for familiar faces, and found most of the inner circle was nearby. Sera was fletching arrows outside a small misshapen tent a few yards away, at least two dozen arrows stuck in the ground around her feet. Blackwall was chatting quietly with Horsemaster Dennet, who was checking the red-tinged bandages on a horse’s leg. Leliana was four tents down the hill, emerging from an enormous cream-colored tent with a handful of papers. She moved through the camp with purpose, stopping only once she reached the cart holding her birdcages. On the hill beyond stood Cassandra and Cullen, gesturing animatedly and shaking their heads whenever the other spoke. They were obviously arguing. Madame Vivienne was nowhere in sight, but I could only guess she was in one of the tents, keeping her dainty self relatively warm.

The surrounding area was littered with small tents and even smaller fires, each with several people huddled around them. Judging from the number of tents, we had escaped Haven with most of our forces intact, both mage and soldier. Seeing them all alive lifted a great deal of stress from my shoulders, and I found I could breathe a little easier after that.

But now the question was, where were we going to go? Where could the Inquisition go. Haven had been headquarters for longer than I’d been around. It had become home, yet Corypheus had taken it away in a single night.

Oh shit, Corypheus. I had to tell the advisors what I knew before I forgot any details. Had I forgotten something already? I began to panic. Forcing my volume down low, I chattered at Dorian and Varric until they looked at me, then began writing in the snow beneath my last writings.

_I need to talk to Cullen, Josie, and Leliana. NOW. I have information they’ll want._


	18. I'm Large and No One's In Charge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi readers! Bun here! I just wanted to let you guys know that I just got a full-time job, so I might not have an update ready as quickly after this week. Bear with me while I get used to my new schedule, I promise I'll write as much as I can between now and next Monday!
> 
> Also: have a playlist made by yours truly! http://tinyurl.com/tdsplaylist

My information, or at least what I remembered, was met with both appreciation and cold curses. The Elder One, Corypheus, had tried to take the Mark from Lavellan, claiming it had been meant for him, only to find out that the power had attached itself permanently to the elven woman. As Cole had warned, the monster had only been after her, not the Inquisition itself.

“If Corypheus believes the Herald to be dead, we may have some time to regain our footing,” Josephine said optimistically as her eyes scanned the notes on her clipboard. Despite the dim lighting from the tent’s candles, she seemed to have an easy time writing. She had taken down everything I’d written on the ground, pausing only to allow me to cover up my words with a sweep of snow and dirt in order to continue. Having a voice would have come in handy, but I was content to write as much as possible instead. It distracted me from my aching body.

“And how exactly should we do that?” Cullen quipped, his voice taking on a frustrated tone. “The Herald is in fact alive, though she has yet to wake up. How are we supposed to close the rifts without her? And who in all good sense would take us in, knowing there’s a chance that The Elder One will attack again once he learns of her survival?”

“Well, do you have any ideas, Cullen?” Leliana said primly, her eyes narrowing at him as she moved to Josephine’s side. The Antivan woman had lowered her eyes to her notes again, and her grip on her quill had increased to the point where the poor writing utensil was close to snapping.

Suffice to say, tensions were a tad high.

With my warnings written down and nothing else to contribute, I excused myself from the war tent, the large cream-colored one, and headed towards Varric’s fire to rest. And by “excused myself”, I mean I simply turned and walked out before anyone could protest. Being back on my feet had been nice for a while, but now I was just one big knot of aches and pains and grumpiness. I wanted to lay down for a bit near a fire, and maybe claim some food for myself.

While I had been talking with the advisors about Corypheus, The Iron Bull and a few hunters had returned with several rams, which by now were cooking over the largest of the fires. The qunari met me halfway, a large smear of ram’s blood still dried on his shoulder. He didn’t look any different than usual. He wasn’t even a little bit exhausted. Or perhaps he just hid it well, since he was technically a spy.

A very, very good-looking spy, but that was beside the point.

“I take it, they still haven’t come to an agreement yet, eh Herah?” he asked quietly, his rumble of a voice making my already-wobbly knees knock together. I quickly shook my head, both to confirm his question and shake off the warm fuzzy feelings he left in my head.

“Thought so. This is why the Inquisition needs a leader.”

I looked up at him curiously as I settled at the fire’s edge. The flames gave his gray skin a warm glow, making him seem less threatening than usual, even as he tore a huge chunk of meat from the ram roasting in front of us. He handed it to me, which I took in my claws and began gnawing on slowly, then ripped off a few meaty ribs for himself. When he sat, the stones around the fire jumped at the impact, and a cloud of orange ashes filled the air. Varric, who was still writing, let out a shout of dismay as said ashes floated down onto his journal, singing the pages lightly and leaving black streaks when he blew them away. Bull gave him a quick apology, then turned back to me.

“From that look, I’m guessing you’d like to know why?” He paused as I nodded, then continued. “Because now that the Breach is sealed, the Inquisition needs someone to make all the hard decisions. Put their foot down. A group can handle damage control, but now things are a little more… complicated.”

Putting my half-eaten meat on hold, I wrote in the dirt: _Aren’t Cassandra and Leliana in charge?_

“The Left and Right Hand of the Divine? No, I don’t think they would do well. They’re leaders, but not the right ones for the Inquisition. They’re too entangled with the beliefs of the Divine to be able to run this thing effectively. There are better uses for their skills than running this band of chaos.”

_Cullen? Josie?_

Bull side-eyed my writing, humming as he pulled a long piece of charred meat off a rib. “Cullen’s too hardheaded to be a good leader. He’s better suited to commanding soldiers. As for Josephine, she could do a decent job at first, but in the end she’s too soft. She wouldn’t be able to handle the consequences if something went wrong. No amount of favors or blackmail can bring a dead soldier back to life, let alone an army.”

As he dug into his food, I went back to my own meal and pondered his words. With as little as I knew about politics, I had the distinct feeling that Bull was right. No one was really right for the position of Inquisitor. Cullen was too stubborn when it came to mages, Cassandra was a little hot-headed, Leliana was too entrenched in subterfuge, and Josephine was better at being a diplomat. None of them really fit the bill as far as leading went. But then… who else was there?

_Who would you pick?_

Wiping a bit of grease from his chin with his thumb, Bull licked the digit before tossing the cleaned ribs into a nearby bush. “If it was my choice? I’d put the Herald at the top.” He glanced towards the healer’s tent, where said elf was still sleeping. “You see, Qunari don’t pick the strongest or the wisest to lead. They pick the ones who are willing to make the hard decisions and live with the consequences. The Herald has already been doing that.”

I mulled over the thought for a minute, barely tasting my food as I chewed it. Bull definitely had some good points. Looking back, it was easy to see that Lavellan had been making decisions simply by making her opinions known. The others offered advice, but it was Lavellan who finalized everything and made the next step possible. From the moment I’d met her, she had been in charge. If she were to lead the Inquisition, I knew without a doubt that I’d follow her. Not just as a companion, but as a friend. I would do all that I could to protect her. I wasn’t sure how much I could actually do for her, but now that I was larger there had to be something I could do easily.

Thinking back, I remembered the strange scream I had used on the Red Templars to stun them. How exactly had I done that? I had felt the urge to cough, like something had been caught in my throat, and then I had screamed. What had caused it? Would I be able to do it again? Was this a normal dragon skill, or had I created something brand new? Lavellan hadn’t been phased by it at the time, so she had to have seen it before. Or perhaps she hadn’t been paying attention?

I had so many questions to ask her, but she was still sleeping in the healer’s tent, recovering from her injuries. In fact, that’s probably where I should have been. Many of my scales were still missing or still regrowing, and my body was getting chilled by the night air. The sun had long since set, and the world around me danced with shadows cast by the fires of the camp.

With a sigh mixed with a grunt, I swallowed the last of my food and hauled myself to my feet. My mind had gained a comfortable haze from eating, and I was ready to hunker down for the night. I rumbled a goodnight to Bull and Varric, who waved me off with smiles, and turned to make my way towards the healer’s tent. I was looking forward to curling up next to Lavellan and sleeping for as long a time as possible. She was always nice to cuddle with, and I couldn’t help but hope that being close to her would help her wake up.

Just outside the tent, I had to pause. I could hear voices within, low and quiet to keep others from hearing.

“Scales rough like bark under my hands, smelling of fire and brimstone. She keeps close, comforting and kind. My small protector.” A pause. “And yet, she hides behind anger, rage, pain. What happened to make her so angry?”

“I don’t know, Cole. I wonder that myself.” It was Solas who replied, his voice no more than a murmur. I could picture him now, sitting by Lavellan’s side, his hands alight with magic as he looked over her injuries. I moved to enter the tent, but stopped just short of the opening flap.

“I want to help her heal,” Cole said. “She was hurt-”

“Cole. Stop,” Solas said gently, his tone hardening slightly. I could picture his eyes, piercing blue, locking onto the strange boy. “If Herah did not wish to share her story with us before, I’m sure she would not appreciate you sharing it now, without her consent.”

The tent was silent for a moment, and I felt a curl of gratitude for Solas’ words. He was right. If I wanted the world to know about my past, about “Maggie”, then I would tell everyone when I was ready. If I was ever truly read.

“...who is Maggie?”

Hearing that, I could have sworn my heart turned into stone and plummeted into the core of the planet. My skin felt eerily cold as wave after wave of chills shot up my spine. I could feel my vision blurring around the edges, taking on a red tinge. Shaking my head, I tried to dispel it, but it was persistent.

“Ah, are you reading my thoughts now? Please, refrain from doing so in the future. I would prefer my thoughts remain private while they are within my mind.”

“No, I didn’t hear it from you,” the boy said quietly. I could hear him shuffling around inside the tent, his hat brushing against the cloth walls every time he turned. “Warm breeze, the scent of water. I watch the lake ripple at my feet, the fish nibbling my toes. Brothers calling out-”

The air was suddenly filled with a low growling that seemed to make the world vibrate. It didn’t take me long to realize it was coming from me. My lips were curled back, putting my needle-like teeth on display as I shoved my way into the tent.

The men were on opposite sides of Lavellan, both staring at me with surprise written on their faces. I didn’t pay much attention to Solas. My sights, still fuzzy with red, were set on Cole. I felt the boy’s gaze go through me, making my skin crawl as if an army of ants was creeping up my spine. I didn’t bother hiding my displeasure at seeing him again. I snarled fiercely, my tail twitching back and forth like an angry cat’s.

 _Be. Silent,_ I thought. No, I demanded it. _Do not say that name again. Ever._

“But-”

I snarled again, taking another step towards Cole, when Solas thrust out his hand towards me. A wall of blue light appeared between us, a magical barrier. One of Solas’ best moves. I swiped at it with my claws, only to have them skid along it.

“Herah. Look at me.”

Reluctantly, I moved my gaze from Cole to Solas. The apostate’s posture looked relaxed, but I could see his lips were pressed into a thin line. He looked tired, but whether that was from his earlier disappearance or from just now using magic, I didn’t know. His staff, which has been on his back a minute ago, was now held tightly in his right hand.

“Herah. Back down, if you please. This is not a place for violence.”

I glanced at Cole, giving him another low growl. He’d started it. If he’d just keep his goddamn mouth shut…

“Herah. Enough.”

Suddenly the world felt very off-balance, and I blinked a handful of times to keep everything from spinning. The red in my vision bled away and a green hue took its place.The air felt too thick to be normal, and just inhaling it made me feel like I was standing over a humidifier, breathing in clouds of steam. I tried to shake the colors away, but I only succeeded in crashing to the floor, my limbs tangled in each other as I struggled to keep my eyes open. What was happening to me?

When I managed to focus on Solas for a split second, I realized his staff and hands were glowing the same shade of green as the spots in my vision. He was casting a spell on me, trying to keep me under control. I’d seen him do this to our enemies, to demons and bandits, but he’d never cast a hostile spell on one of us; on a friend.

As I fought to keep my mind from shutting down, Solas dropped his barrier and knelt down within arm’s reach of me. His scent filled my nose, reminding me of the stables at Haven; hay and leathers and fur. An intense feeling of betrayal built in my chest, making my mouth taste like bile. I wanted to ask him why he was doing this to me. Why was he defending this newcomer? He was supposed to be on my side!

“Be calm, Herah. I will remove the spell when you calm yourself. This will only take a moment.” He turned his blue eyes on Cole, who flinched under his gaze. “Cole, it should be obvious by now that Herah does not want nor require your help. I think it would be best if you kept away from her for the time being.”

The boy opened his mouth to speak, but an arched eyebrow from Solas stopped him. Instead, he nodded and hunched his shoulders, trying to appear smaller. Solas looked down at me and tilted his head.

“Can I trust you will not harm Cole if he follows those instructions?”

Mustering my waning strength, I jerked my head in a nod. Fine, fuck it. If the kid steered clear of me, I wouldn’t go after him. But if he came near me again with his mind-reading powers, I wasn’t going to think twice.

Solas visibly relaxed at my agreement, the tension leaving his arms and shoulders. With a wave of his staff, he ceased casting his spell on me, and the clouds of green floating on my peripheral dispersed. I could feel the magic leaving my limbs slowly, during which Cole sidled around me and left the tent.

When the strange boy was gone for certain, I forced myself to my feet and shuffled to Lavellan’s side. Solas had taken a seat on her other side and had begun healing her, his fingers alight with magic. I watched him carefully from across the cot, and narrowed my eyes at him when his gaze met mine.

“Glaring will not get me to leave, Herah,” he said quietly. I didn’t need him to tell me that, but it made me feel a little better to know he was at least a little wary of me. I wasn’t going to hurt him, but I definitely wasn’t going to take any shit from him.

Dropping my gaze from him, I focused on Lavellan. She looked better now, more peaceful in her sleep. Her brows were relaxed and her breathing was even. Occasionally, her fingers even twitched. Was she having a good dream? Would she wake up soon? I rested my head on the cot and nuzzled her hand, feeling the tension from earlier bleeding away as my nose pressed to her cold fingers.

Please wake up, I begged, though my voice came out as nothing more than a low noise, like a dog’s whimper. Wake up so you can talk to me and hug me and tell me you believe in me. Tell me you’re still my friend. Tell me I didn’t fail you!

Solas looked up from his hands, his expression a careful mask. Ignoring him, I settled down next to Lavellan and shifted closer until my side pressed against her right arm. It didn’t take much energy to warm her up, but I focused on the task. I didn’t want the girl to overheat and sweat through her clothes, but I didn’t want her to get a chill from someone leaving the tent flaps open.

When I was satisfied, I curled my tail over her legs again sighed. It was the best I could do. I couldn’t heal her body or talk to her while she slept, but I could at least keep her warm.

“You care for her a great deal.”

I forced back the urge to growl at the obviousness of Solas’ comment, and instead began purring. Lavellan stirred quietly beside me, her head tilting towards me as she sighed in her sleep. Thank goodness I’d gotten used to keeping my limbs tucked under me. My claws were nowhere near her skin, so she was free to toss and turn and I was free from worrying about accidentally stabbing her.

“You are a curious creature, Herah,” Solas said quietly.

I continued purring, but felt a wisp of content curl around my heart. I would have to take that as a compliment.

* * *

I drifted in and out of sleep for a while, though I’m not sure how long. When I opened my eyes long enough to actually consider myself awake, the world outside the tent was still dark. The fires I could see were low, but there were still people wandering around them. It couldn’t have been past midnight.

A slight movement next to me caught my eye, and I looked down to see Lavellan’s hand settled on my neck, curled into a light fist. She had shifted in her sleep, rolling onto her side to press herself against my warm scales. Her scent filled my nose, reminding me of the quiet forest that had surrounded my apartment complex in Spruce Creek; pine trees and soft dirt. She smelled like nature, with a hint of elfroot potion.

I sniffed lightly at her hair, blowing a lock of it out of her eyes, and laid my head back down to try and get a bit more sleep. Everything froze when the hand on my neck shifted slightly, fingernails catching on my scales. My body tensed in a fraction of a second, and I immediately began sniffing at Lavellan’s hair again. Was she awake? Was she in pain? Why was she moving? Was she trying to say something?

Before I could squawk for the healer, Lavellan’s green eyes fluttered open, focusing on the roof of the tent. A soft groan escaped her, and the hand on my neck slid down to my shoulder. I immediately pressed my shout to her cheek and licked her a few times.

“Herah, n-nooo,” the elf moaned, her voice no louder than a whisper. Her hand pressing feebly against my cheek, but she wasn’t really trying to push me away. “No licking, I must taste terrible.”

She did taste terrible, like sweat and dirt, but screw it! She was awake! She was awake and breathing and her eyes were open and she was awake!!

And just like that, everything I’d gone through - the pain of growing, the frustrations with Cole, the anger at The Elder One, the fear of failing to protect one of my only friends - it had all become worth the effort. I still had a place in this world. I hadn’t failed my job yet.


	19. The Journey to Skyhold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Updates are now switching to Sundays! I'm usually done writing and proofreading everything by then, so I figured there's no reason to make you guys wait an extra day. Sorry it's so short, I'll try and have a longer chapter written for next week! :P

Despite spending the night next to Lavellan, my dreams were anything but pleasant.

My issues with Cole had plagued me all night in my dreams, surrounding me with familiar faces wearing expressions of scorn and disgust. My dreamself, human as always, had shared my past with my companions, and had been quickly abandoned by them. One by one, they had turned their backs to me and walked into the darkness.

Lavellan and Solas had been the last to go. Lavellan’s expression had been the worst to see. Her green eyes bored into me as I spoke, burning holes into my body and soul. Then, just as I’d finished, she had turned and walked away. Solas’ expression hadn’t been disgusted like the others. Instead, his expression had looked grim. He hadn’t looked me in the eyes the entire time, and had left shortly after Lavellan.

I awoke the next morning, tired and miserable, to find I was not in the healer’s tent where I’d fallen asleep. Instead, I was resting in one of the Inquisition’s supply wagons. I was facing the back of said wagon, my side pressed uncomfortably against the wooden bench built into the side. The wooden floor was rough against the soft scales on my stomach, but I was too tired to move. I didn’t feel like moving just to get a splinter in my still-vulnerable sides. No, I’d stay where I was.

Looking up, I saw the sun was high in the sky, which told me I had slept through most - if not all - of the morning. I could hear the sound of conversations around me, a comforting buzz that drowned out the glumness in my mind. I allowed my mind to drift as I listened to the muffled voices, and closed my eyes.

It only took me a few seconds to realize the wagon I was in was moving. The cart creaked and rattled with every bump in the road, making the whole thing seem very rickety. The horses drawing it nickered softly, prompting a few words from the person driving the wagon. I forced my eyes open again and lifted my head, trying to see over the back hatch.

We were in the mountains. We were on a high mountain pass, barely wide enough for two wagons side by side. There were mages and soldiers walking alongside the cart, looking tired yet determined. They walked with purpose, as if all their problems would be solved by getting over the mountain. As the cart pulled forward, I could only sit and wonder where we were headed.

“It seems the Inquisition’s pet has finally awoken,” said a lilting voice. I turned to look at the bench on the opposite side of the cart, only to see Vivienne and Josephine sitting together, watching me. Sitting on the bench on my side was Leliana, framed by empty bird cages and looking down at me with a comforting smile.

“I take it your dreams were unpleasant?” she asked. She lowered a gloved hand and patted my side, careful not to catch the fabric on my still-growing scales. Her touch was gentle, comforting, as Lavellan’s was. I shuffled around in the cramped cart, stopping only when my head was resting on Leliana’s lap. The spymaster didn’t seem to mind my new sitting arrangements, and easily went back to her conversation with Josephine and Vivienne.

“As I was saying, we will need the start preparations for Empress Celene’s ball the moment we reach Skyhold. We will need supplies for my spies, not to mention what few soldiers we will end up bringing.” The redhead leaned back against the cart’s frame, her fingers scratching lightly at the spot between my horns. I purred like a cat under her nimble hands, and she laughed. “We will also need to make sure we will be able to bring Herah along, if she likes.”

“Are you sure that’s wise? To bring a dragon to the Peace Talks?” Josephine sputtered. She had gone a shade lighter, and nearly dropped her writing desk.

As the three of them began debating the idea, I looked up at Leliana curiously, wondering just what the heck she was talking about. Me? At a ball? With the Empress of Orlais?? Surely the people there would only think of me as a potential menace. If anything, I would be a distraction…

The realization hit me like a snowball to the face.

Oh, she was good.

“With a little training,”Leliana said quietly, “Herah would be a fine asset to have at the ball. She may not be able to play The Game like us, but she can certainly turn it in our favor.”

“I suppose she would be useful if the party descended into chaos,” Vivienne sighed.

“I will send word to the Empress,” Josephine said, scribbling down something in her notes. “I do hope she is not against the idea. I admit, having Herah at the ball would impress many of our allies, as well as intimidate a number of foes. Many have heard rumors of the Herald taming a dragon, but to see it in person!” She fanned herself with her feather quill, suddenly looking like a woman from the cover of a romance novel. “The nobles would be clamoring for a personal audience for months!”

The three of them moved on to different conversations, leaving me to think. There was a chance I would be going to a ball, where I could be introduced to Empress Celene, the woman who stood between Orlais and the chaos that was Corypheus. If she fell to an assassin’s dagger, The Elder One would by another step closer to his goal, and the world would take a step towards doom.

I felt a knot of unease tighten in my stomach as I thought back to that red lyrium future. The Inquisition was working its hardest to prevent that future, but what if something happened to Celene before the day of the ball? What if an assassin struck her down just before the whole thing started? What would the Inquisition do then?

Letting out a sigh through my nose, I leaned my head against Leliana’s stomach. In response, she began scratching between my horns, humming quietly as Josephine and Vivienne debated over who should be sent to the ball with Lavellan. The simple tune allowed me to forget my worries for a moment. I let my mind drift as the spymaster’s voice carried over my ears, each note perfectly on-key.

By the time she stopped, I was mapping out the melody in my head. What song was that? Had she always been able to sing?

As it turned out, I didn’t even need to ask.

“You know, I was a bard once, a long time ago. I still am, though I have not been in the field myself for some time.”

A bard! That explained it. Could she play other instruments, or could she only sing? What other skills did bards usually have, aside from music? What made her stop singing, I wondered? Perhaps I would ask her, once her story was finished. But for the moment, I tucked my questions away and listened.

“Do you remember when I told you about the Temple of Sacred Ashes, and how I had been with the Hero of Ferelden at the time?”

I nodded against her leg.

Satisfied, she continued. “I traveled with him for less than a year, and I have never met a more spirited fellow since. Brendan, a human mage from the Ferelden Circle. He was twenty-eight when the Wardens recruited him, apparently no more than a day after his Harrowing.”

Her hand stilled on my head as she lost herself to her memories. “I met him in Lothering, in a tavern. He granted some misguided soldiers mercy when I asked him. He was kind to those who needed it, but was willing to mete out punishment when it was necessary. He seemed to get along with most of our companions, though Wynne would say he was too unruly sometimes. In truth, he was terribly unruly, yet he would always see the silver lining of a situation. Even when the final battle was looming, he was joking with us, making us all feel calmer. And when he struck down the Archdemon, he didn’t die as he was supposed to.”

At this, her wistful smile dropped away, replaced by a subtle disdain. “At first, I had thought the Maker had intervened, to save one of his most precious children. Then I heard from one of our companions that he had lived because of a dark ritual he had performed with his Witch of the Wilds lover.”

She sighed, and masked the disdain on her face with cool indifference. “I suppose they were in love, and that I should have been happy for them, but… No, I do not think it matters now. They disappeared together shortly after seeing Anora crowned the rightful Queen of Ferelden. He was a good man...”

Leliana blinked suddenly, as if she were waking from a dream. “I’m sorry, Herah, I did not mean to ramble. Though I suppose you haven’t heard about the Hero of Ferelden before, have you?”

I sat back on my hind legs and shook my head vigorously, almost enough to throw myself off-balance. I had enjoyed her story immensely, and I was always eager to hear about the history of Thedas. This was such a strange world, but it was slowly becoming more like a home to me. In time, I wanted to hear more about the hero known as Brendan. I wanted to know about all of the famous figures of history. I was also curious about the companions Leliana had mentioned. Who were they? Where were they now? Would I ever meet any of them?

My questions had to wait, as a cry went up through the ranks ahead of us. The people were cheering and clapping, and many folks who were walking behind us spend up their pace, reaching the next hill before us. They also broke out into joyous cheers. As we approached, the crowd moved aside for the carts.

That’s when I saw it.

With towers of pale stone reaching towards the sky, the castle was as tall as any of the surrounding mountains. It looked as if it had been built brick by brick, yet the mountain it stood upon made it look as if it had been carved from the stone below. Snow lingered on the rooftops and shimmered in the sun, making the whole thing look as if it had been dusted with diamonds. Between us and the fortress was a great chasm, across which a giant bridge had been built.

I was told it was our new home.

It was called Skyhold.


	20. An Inquisitor is Chosen

It took us the better part of an evening to get settled in the ruins of Skyhold. The castle was surprisingly intact, despite Solas’ insistence that no one had lived in it for a few centuries. There were quite a few sections of the outer walls that needed repairs, and the inside was even worse for wear. Not to mention there wasn’t a roof in sight without some kind of hole in it. There was no way we would be able to start any repairs right away. In the meantime, we spent the afternoon and evening setting up tents in any space that didn't look like it was about to cave in.

By the time the sun was setting, most people had finished dinner and were milling about the open spaces, chatting quietly to each other or getting ready to sleep. I’d hunkered down next to the castle’s front door, at the top of the stairs, dozing and waiting. Lavellan and Cassandra were inside, most likely discussing things that were best spoken of away from civilian ears. It sounded boring. Had I gone inside, I would have fallen asleep within minutes.

I had spent the day with Harritt the blacksmith, who had taken up residence in the lowest level of Skyhold and claimed it as his new workspace. With time and a little dragon fire, we had cleared the room of debris, and put together a large forge for him and his assistants to work with. When we had finished, I - still tired from the journey - was wiped out and ready to put my head down for the night.

Despite my weariness, however, I waited for Lavellan to finish her discussion with Cassandra. After her sudden awakening and the discovery of Skyhold, she had been running on fumes all day. When she finally slept, she would be out like a light.

The strange thing for me was that, while I was tired, I wasn’t grumpy like I would have been on Earth. Doing so much physical work in such a short amount of time normally would have put me in a foul mood. I had been raised to be smart, not strong. Now, after helping Harritt, I felt more content than put-off. Was it because I was enjoying myself, or perhaps because I was helping others? It could have been for either reason, or for both. What counted was that I was doing it of my own volition.

In any case, it was well past sunset when Lavellan emerged from the dark castle, torch in hand. She was the picture of disheveled. Her hair was a riot of brown curls covered with a layer of dust, and she had a smear of soot along a cheekbone. She smelled like stale air mixed with rotting wood, and I couldn’t stifle my sneezing as she passed. The torch immediately swung towards me, and I squawked as her eyes focused on me, shining like a cat’s in the torch’s light.

“Oh, Herah! I didn’t see you there.” She smiled warmly and offered her hand, which I sniffed before nuzzling. “Will you escort me to my tent? I don’t quite know the layout of the fortress yet.”

She didn’t even need to ask. I was on my feet before she finished her sentence, ready to lead the way. My toes ached, but the thought of curling up next to Lavellan for the night was calling out to me like a siren’s song. I wasted no time in guiding her down the stairs and into the courtyard, where most of the most notable members of the Inquisition had set up their shelters. Until the castle could be repaired enough to be considered liveable, everyone would continue sleeping in tents.

On one side of the courtyard, Leliana’s tent was set up and open, the flaps pulled back to reveal the women chatting inside. Her tent had enough room for four people, five if pressed. The spymaster herself was seated on one of the cots inside, her head bent forward as she spoke quietly with Josephine, who had begun undoing the intricate braids in her hair. Vivienne was nowhere in sight, but her hennin had been placed on pillow of the far right cot. Cassandra, who had agreed to take the remaining bed, was just emerging from the fortress, giving orders to the recruits following her. She would not be back until everyone was settled down, or until Cullen offered to take over for her.

Speaking of the Commander, he was down in the lower courtyard with several recruits, handing out orders like they were party favors. As Lavellan and I walked from the stairs to the tents near the tavern, we could hear him berating one of them for bringing him the wrong reports. I whimpered as he threatened the kid with latrine digging for a month. No one deserved that kind of torture. That recruit would smell like shit for a year.

“The Commander is, ah… in a bit of a mood, hm?” Lavellan whispered. I whimpered again, glancing towards the lower courtyard. A lone recruit trudged through the mud towards the bridge, a shovel in their hands and their head hung low.

“I think something might be wrong with him,” the elf added. A quick look showed she had stopped a few feet back, her gaze was focused on the ex-Templar below, who was now pinching the bridge of his nose and grimacing. “Cullen seems a bit more agitated than I remember him being. Perhaps Haven had more of an impact on him than I thought.”

I rested my chin on the railing and studied the man. It was true he had become a bit more grumpy since Haven, but that was to be expected. We had lost people in Haven, good people, and we were still reeling from the loss. Stress was a given, but the tension I saw in Cullen seemed to be growing by the hour. Did he get chronic headaches? The man had to have seen enough fighting in his life to come away with some kind of ache.

I made a mental note to check on him tomorrow, then yawned loudly at Lavellan in an attempt to get us moving again. She got the message, and soon we were outside her tent, which someone had set up under one of the few trees in the fortress. Lavellan tied the front flap back allowing her torch’s light to fill the space. The tent wasn’t as large as Leliana’s, but it was big enough for two people to sleep comfortably. There were two bedrolls already laid out, and Sera was sleeping on the right one with her back to us, though our entrance made her start awake with a snort.

“Huh? Wozzit now…?” As she rolled over, her pale blue eyes wandered briefly before focusing on the two of us. She grunted. “Oh, just you two.”

“Ir abelas, Sera. We did not mean to wake you,” Lavellan said as she sat down on the open bedroll. She tucked the torch into the holder hanging from the nearest pole, careful not to let the flames touch the fabric of the shelter, and began tugging at the clasps of her armor.

“Don’t go all elfy on me, I was just startin’ to like you.”

I sat at the opening, unsure of what to do now. There wasn’t as much room in this tent as there had been in the healer’s tent; just enough room for two people to sleep and move around a bit without stepping on each other. That meant I would have to find another place to sleep. I didn’t like the idea of not being near Lavellan, but it was just for one night. I could deal with that, right?

As Lavellan moved to climb under her blanket, I chattered quietly at her and tapped the ground with a paw. Curious, she scooted over towards me. I stuck my tongue against the streak of soot on her cheek and licked, cleaning most of it off before she could pull away. She pressed a hand to the wet spot, her expression a mix of surprise and confusion. When she pulled her hand away, it was grimy, a stripe of spit and the remaining soot covering most of her palm. She smiled, and began rubbing the rest of it away with her sleeve.

“Are you a dog now?” Sera snorted, her lips twisted in an amused smile. I moved towards her suddenly, my tongue sticking out of my mouth. She rolled in the opposite direction, only to get tangled in her blanket. I was upon her in a flash, covering her face with licks as slobbery as I could make them. When I was done, her short hair was either sticking up at odd angles or plastered to her cheek. She bopped me on the nose, scowling as I purred loudly.

“You're a right arse biscuit!”

“Oh dear,” Lavellan said quietly, her smile hidden behind a hand, “I do hope that washes out.”

We would find out later the next morning that dragon slobber does not wash out of hair very well, but it’s extremely useful as a sort of “styling gel”.

* * *

Repairs to Skyhold began at the crack of dawn, the moment the camps inside and outside the fortress began to stir. Several groups of people - soldiers, civilians, and mages - were dispatched just after sun-up to the surrounding mountains to mine stone. They returned every few hours, their carts overflowing with stone, and were sent back out after getting some rest and a good meal.

I, however, was not required to go with them. A dragon would only get underfoot in a mine, and I was useless unless there were enemies to keep at bay. So I was allowed to stay in Skyhold and explore.

From a distance, the castle had seemed large to begin with. Now that I was inside it, the place was enormous. The main hall was the biggest room by far, with a ceiling two stories up and huge columns placed every fifteen feet for support. The floors were a dark hardwood, abused and weathered by time, but the workers Josephine had hired assured the Inquisition that they would be good as new by the time repairs were done. Still, that left plenty of other things to be fixed up, including the rafters, which had begun to sag and fall down in several rooms. You had to be careful where you stepped, or the floor would collapse under you.

There were six doors in the main hall, three on each side. I knew Harritt’s forge was beyond the far right door, but the others were a mystery. I decided to try out the first door on the right. I had to spend a few minutes shoving aside broken crates and old pottery before I could even get to it, but I finally managed to clear away enough to open it. A firm yank on the large ring of a doorknob had the thing creaking open.

Beyond the rotting wood and bronze fittings was a large rotunda, about fifty feet across. When I stood in the middle, I could see all the way up to the rafters three floors above me. There was a large chunk of roof missing, and it let in a steady stream of daylight. Dust motes floated across the rays of light, stirred up from my arrival. I sent up a puff of smoke and watched as the motes danced around the black cloud, catching light as they spun. What had this room been made for? I could see shelves on the second floor. Had this once been a library, or perhaps an apothecary’s home? I could easily imagine those shelves lined with potions and powders, individually labeled and stored for later use.

With the stairs to the upper floors blocked off by a wall of debris, I was forced to move my search elsewhere. The second door on the right was also blocked off by a pile of fallen bricks, so I switched to the doors on the left side of the hall.

The far door didn’t go anywhere at the moment. The supports for the stairs had given out long ago, so I had been forced to put off exploring that part of that castle. The second door led to a fairly large room, possibly a salon or office. There was a beautiful fireplace built into the wall, the mantle carved with a forest scene. Upon closer inspection, I could see deer with large curling horns walking between tall trees whose branches curved inwards, like they were each holding a sphere. It was an interesting picture, but my attention was pulled away.

There was a door on the other side of the room, left ajar. Just past it, I could see a set of huge double doors, blocked by debris but still very impressive. The hall had apparently sustained heavy damage over the years. The wall to my right had all but crumbled, and any windows that remained had been cracked and blown inward. I turned and left the hall, unable to move any farther.

The last door turned out to be my favorite door. It led me outside again, and into a large overgrown garden. Flowers and weeds thrived side by side, filling every space with bursts of color. It smelled like dirt and green things, and I felt a pang of longing in my heart. It reminded me of home, of Spruce Creek and its seemingly unending forest. I missed the familiarity of nature, the flowers and herbs Aunt Ellen had grown behind her hut of a house. Thedas felt too strange, too different. Sure, some things were similar, but I didn’t know the names of any herbs or flowers. I didn’t know what was poisonous or lethal to eat, and I didn’t know if sniffing a flower would simply make me dizzy or put me in a coma. I didn’t know the difference between elfroot and royal elfroot, or what the heck felandaris was, but Varric had shared that putting blood lotus extract in someone’s drink would give them “a bad case of the shits”. Aside from that little tidbit of information, I didn’t know anything. It made me feel like a stranger in an even stranger land.

As I wandered the garden, I began to think. Would I ever want to go back to Earth? If I could, how would I do it? I still couldn’t remember much of how I’d arrived in Thedas. I remembered playing my cello, feeling sick and passing out, and then...blank. Nothing. Nada. Whenever I tried to remember what happened, I only felt a prickle of dread, like icy fingers on the back of my neck. I suddenly felt cold, despite my being in the sun. Maybe I didn’t want to remember. Was this my body’s way of telling me to stop trying to force it? If only I had answers. Answers would have been much appreciated.

However, the question remained: If I had the choice, would I go back? A part of me wanted to scream yes, to beg and plead with whatever gods ruled this place to send me home. Yet another part of me recoiled at the thought of going back to that place. Compared to my time spent with the Inquisition, my life on Earth seemed stagnant and tiresome. I hadn’t been doing anything of importance with my life. I’d only been doing things I wanted to do, and I’d done them whenever I’d wanted to. In a way, Aunt Ellen had spoiled me. She had taken me from a life of rules and regulations and had set me free to do what I pleased. Now I was running around a strange new country, saving mages and defending the helpless. I felt like a superhero, albeit a slightly shorter and less human superhero. Superman could keep his laser-vision, I had fire breathing. I was a little jealous of the whole flying thing, though. Wings would have been nice to have.

An hour passed while I sat there in the garden, brooding over my choices and my future. When the sun was at its highest point in the sky, Leliana appeared in the door I’d left open, holding something large and wrapped in cloth in her arms. She called out to me, bringing me out of my thoughts, and motioned for me to join her. Shaking off a few butterflies that had settled on my horns, I trotted to her side and followed her into the castle.

“The Inquisition has come to a decision, Herah,” she said as we passed through the main hall. “Or at least, the founding members of the Inquisition have decided. We are going to ask Lavellan to become Inquisitor.”

This was certainly news to me. I had spoken to Bull about this just the other day. His words came back to me in an instant.

_“Qunari don’t pick the strongest or the wisest to lead. They pick the ones who are willing to make the hard decisions and live with the consequences. The Herald has already been doing that.”_

He had been right. The Inquisition needed a leader, and who better than Lavellan? She wouldn’t be alone either, because she would have the advisors, the inner circle, and me to assist. We would keep her safe, and together we would try to stop The Elder One and fix the damage he’d done to the world. At least, that was what I hoped we would do.

Leliana stopped halfway down the stairs and waited, her eyes trained on the approaching figures of Cassandra and Lavellan. She quickly unwrapped the item in her hands; a two-handed greatsword made of the shiniest steel I’d ever seen. It flashed in the sun, reflecting light like a mirror. Its hilt was molded into the form of a fierce dragon, its fiery breath taking shape as carvings in the blade. It was a beautiful weapon, clearly made with great care.

As the two women approached, I looked between Lavellan and Cassandra. The elven woman was clearly surprised by this turn of events, and her hands trembled slightly as her fingers wove together. She was nervous, and I didn’t blame her. Had I been in her position, I would have fainted on the spot or said something idiotic. I didn’t have the confidence to wield a sword, let alone an entire organization.

I watched Lavellan consider Cassandra’s words carefully, her face growing paler by the second. Shit, she wasn’t looking good. She needed support. Leaving Leliana’s side, I moved to Lavellan’s right and rubbed my head against her hip, bringing my purr up to full volume. She heard me - I think the entire Inquisition must have heard me - and smiled.

“Are you going to help me lead the Inquisition, Herah?” she asked me quietly. I nodded once, and her hand settled between my horns. I could feel some of the tension leave her body at my answer.

“Then I will accept your offer,” she told Cassandra, meeting the woman’s steely gaze. She reached for the sword and - holding it in both hands - leveled the dragon hilt at her chest. “Corypheus must be stopped. No matter what.”

“Wherever you lead us,” the Seeker said firmly. She then turned to the courtyard below, which had apparently been filled with people the entire time. Holy moly, how had I missed that?

“Have our people been told?” she shouted.

“They have!” Josie answered. “And soon, the world!”

“Commander! Will they follow?” the Seeker continued to shout, this time looking at Cullen. the blond man stepped in front of the crowd, drawing his sword in one hand while making a fist with the other.

“Inquisition, will you follow?” he cried. The crowd cheered in response. “Will you fight?” he asked. Once more, the crowd filled the air with shouts and clapping. The air was beginning to buzz with excitement, and I was briefly worried they would turn into a mob if Cullen kept going.

Then he asked, “Will we triumph?!” and the world seemed to shake with the crowd’s enthusiasm. Every face was filled with eagerness, happiness, relief, or a combination of all three. For a moment, you could forget we had been almost wiped out by the Elder One. Seeing us now, we looked like a fierce army, ready to take on anything and anyone in our path.

“Why do I suddenly feel like that was the easy part?” Lavellan suddenly asked Cassandra, her voice barely above a whisper. I turned to see Cassandra give her a rare smile.

“That’s because that was the easy part, Inquisitor. With the words out of the way, it is now time for action.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side note for this next week's update: After careful consideration, I'm going to be rewriting the first two chapters of this fic. I'll try to have Ch21 up by next Sunday, but it might have to wait until the Sunday after that. Please bear with me!


	21. Fallow Mire Fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little warning: some violence near the end of the chapter, but not too much.

There were only two types of rain that I enjoyed experiencing.

There were good old fashioned thunderstorms. There were kinds that had that low rumbling thunder that rattled my bones with every boom and lightning that left me seeing jagged lines behind my eyelids. Those storms brought rain that felt heavy on my bare skin, like a lukewarm shower.

Then there were sunshowers. A jog through one of those left me feeling clean and a little chilled, like a splash of cold water on my face. And afterwards, the sun would come out and make the world shine. Not to mention I liked seeing the rainbows they left behind. Storms like that were nice.

Yet, some storms were awful. The ones that had more wind than rain weren't fun to get caught it. Umbrellas were guaranteed to break, and not even a full-body poncho could keep someone dry. If you were lucky, you would be inside your home, tucked away and dry.

Unfortunately, the Fallow Mire had that kind of storm going on all the time, and I was stuck out in the middle of it.

As a bog in the southern reaches of Ferelden, the Fallow Mire was filled with nothing but rocks and swamps for acres. It was hot, humid, and - combined with an endless drizzle - absolutely awful. The moment I arrived, I knew it would it be nothing but a pain in the butt to be there. However, the Inquisition had lost a group of soldiers in the area recently, and word had come in that they were being held hostage by a group of hostile bog natives known as the Avvar.

Bull had filled me in quite a bit on their backstory, and I’d come to the conclusion that these people were either crazy or they were doing their best with what they had. Then again, they were also bandits, so that wasn’t exactly a mark in their favor. Neither was kidnapping Inquisition scouts, but I couldn’t let that get to me. We still had to rescue those people, and pissing off their captors wasn’t going to help.

The only nice thing about the Mire was meeting Scout Harding. She was a lovely dwarf who took her job very seriously, and she gave out plenty of advice for navigating the perils of the bog. She seemed wary upon meeting me, and I couldn’t blame her. Sometimes the whole dragon-thing was a stickler for people, but I was getting used to it. I doubted it would ever really go away.

Once we received news on the missing scouts, thanks to Harding, we were ready to take on the bog.

At least, until she mentioned the undead.

“Oh, and try not to disturb the water,” Harding said as we turned to leave. The group - consisting of Lavellan, Solas, Bull, Varric, and myself - turned back to the dwarf.

“Why?” Lavellan asked. Her green eyes narrowed, but she seemed more curious than wary.

“It wakes up the undead,” the dwarf said.

I felt my guts twist into an uncomfortable knot.

Undead. As in zombies. The walking dead. Deadheads. Necrotics. Shufflers. Brain-eaters.

I was about four seconds away from calling it quits when Lavellan spoke up again.

“Thank you for the warning. We’ll stick to the docks.” She glanced at each of us, then started down the path to the nearest swamp. “Let’s go save those scouts.”

* * *

As the day went on, things only got worse.

“Herah, it’s only wood over water.”

I stayed where I was, standing inches away from the dock. The urge to turn around and walk back to Skyhold was strong, and I couldn’t help glancing back longingly towards camp. Scout Harding wouldn’t mind having me around, would she?

“Herah, come on. Those scouts need us,” Lavellan urged, bringing my attention back to her. Her hand stretched out towards me, beckoning me to move forward, and her smile was sympathetic. “I know it doesn’t seem stable, but it will be okay. Trust me.”

My resolve to go back wavered as she spoke until finally, with a sigh, I put one foot forward. The boards, swollen from constant exposure to the elements, creaked under my weight. If I wasn’t careful, I’d end up falling through into the bog’s murky depths to be ripped apart by its undead denizens. That was just about the last thing I wanted to happen.

Swallowing my nerves, I took a few more tentative steps, each time testing a board before I put my whole weight on it. Good god, why did I have to be so heavy?

Our progress picked up speed as my mind drifted away from thoughts of dismemberment by zombie. Instead, I began thinking about the people who had lived in the Mire before the Avvar's arrival. Harding had said that most of them had died from a plague a few years prior. I wondered what kind of plague it had been, or what it was called. Did Thedas have the same diseases as Earth, or did it have a completely different set? Was the plague that had ravaged this place still contractible? Were my friends immune to said plague? Could I contract any diseases, or did I have some kind of super-duper dragon immunity?

I sighed, suddenly feeling dumb. These were questions I couldn’t ask anyone. Dragons probably knew instinctively when they were sick. Would I know as well, or would I be stuck floundering about, as per usual?

During the first spring I’d spent in Spruce Creek, I’d gotten caught in a heavy downpour that resulted in me catching one hardcore cold. Being the sheltered child I’d been, I’d panicked for hours before calling my aunt, who’d insisted I spend a few days with her. For a week I was holed up in her spare bedroom, sleeping at odd hours and guzzling down tea faster than she could make it. She’d scolded me the entire time, calling me a fool child for not going out prepared. She’d been right, of course. If I had bothered to turn on a radio, I would have heard there was a storm coming.

Just the thought of being sick in the past was enough to turn my stomach now, and I swallowed a lump in my throat. Past or present, I didn’t have Aunt Ellen’s herbal prowess. All I had was a mental library on all things music-related. I couldn’t tell plants apart, let alone remember what their healing properties were. My aunt had tried to teach me how to survive in the wilderness, to forage and hunt and survive, but I hadn’t been any good. At least, at first I hadn’t. After six years of living in the woods, I’d figured out how to skin a rabbit and catch a few fish for dinner. I’d left all the plant-related things to my aunt.

If Aunt Ellen could see me now, what would she think? Would she scream or faint or call me a monster? Or would she still love me, despite my appearance? Would she even know it was me?

Once again, I was asking questions I would never get the answers to. I shook my head and looked out over the swamp, catching sight of a few corpses shambling along the shore. I was in Thedas, a world so much stranger than my own, for good or ill. I had no idea how to get back, or even if I wanted to go back at all. Thedas was starting to grow on me. It didn’t have electricity or internet, but it had magic and dashing men and plenty of places for me to explore. And in Thedas, I wasn’t some bland human girl who spent her days playing her cello. I was a dragon, proud and mighty, striking fear into the hearts of all my enemies!

Except for The Elder One. And his dragon. And the Red Templars.

For the third time in one day, I felt stupid.

I needed to work on my intimidation.

* * *

We only encountered two rifts in the Fallow Mire. Solas had surmised long ago that the farther we got from the Breach, the smaller the rifts would be. He’d been right, of course. They were small compared to the ones in the Hinterlands, and only spat out a few wraiths before Lavellan sealed them. Would they be smaller in Orlais as well?

After sealing the last rift, I met my first Avvar. Seven feet tall and draped in white furs, Sky Watcher was an intimidating person. His voice was a deep rumble, and heavy with an accent I couldn’t identify. He didn’t attack my group like I’d assumed he would. Instead, he approached us with a sort of awe in his eyes.

“Lady of the Skies!” he gasped, a hand reaching towards the space the rift had occupied. “You can mend the gaps in the air?”

“Yes,” Lavellan replied. She lifted her hand and watched as the Anchor’s energies settled down, its job done for the moment. “We still don’t quite understand it, but we… the Inquisition is trying to mend as many gaps as possible.”

“Maybe you have a god’s favor,” Sky Watcher said. Then he looked down at me and nodded. “A dragon walks with you as well? You’re definitely a god’s favorite.” He hefted his giant sledgehammer onto his shoulder with a grunt, then looked up towards the dark ruins in the distance. “The chief’s son and his men have fallen back to the keep. They’ll know you’re here.”

“Are my soldiers alive?” the elf asked.

Sky Watcher nodded. “They killed more of us than I thought they would. They’ve been trained well.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Lavellan said, her shoulders lowering a fraction with the good news. The soldiers were alive, but that didn’t tell us if they were injured or dying. We needed to keep moving.

We left Sky Watcher to his work, whatever it was, and set out for the keep. It was a dilapidated old thing, probably on the verge of falling apart. In the distance, I could see torches flickering to life on its battlements, lined up like tiny christmas lights on a house’s gutter. How many Avvar would we face within its walls? Would some be neutral towards us, like Sky Watcher, or would they try to kill us? Perhaps they would only try to kill Lavellan? The Avvar’s challenge had been aimed at just the elf, and there was no telling if they would allow us to fight at her side. Not that it would stop me if they said no. I wasn’t going to let Lavellan fight on her own, rules or no.

The gates of hold opened for us as we entered, and four Avvar bowmen stepped out. We tensed for a fight, but they just waved us through, their gazes locked on the corpses that seemed to be trying to climb the keep’s walls.

“The Hand of Korth is your opponent,” one of them said as we passed. “He would not be pleased if we were to kill you before his challenge was met.”

“Oh good,” Varric mumbled. “So we’re safe until then.”

The bowman’s expression didn’t so much as twitch at the joke. He simply fired off an arrow, embedding the sparsely-plumed shaft in a corpse’s chest forty feet away. It fell into the muck with a splash, drawing the attention of its friends. We took that moment to enter the hold, glad to have the corpses off our backs.

The inside of the small fortress was in just as bad a shape as the outside, but it looked as if someone had tried to start repairs. Debris had been swept away from the main path, and the stables were dry on the inside. I poked my head inside to look at the horses they had, but was promptly shooed away when several of them started neighing in distress. I’d forgotten that horses weren’t normally cool with dragons hanging around. Oopsie.

Hand of Korth, the Avvar who had issued the challenge, was tucked all the way back in the hold’s main hall. He was taller than Sky Watcher, at least eight feet tall, and he wielded a weapon that was six feet of lethal greataxe sharpened to a killer edge. He was surrounded by at least twenty other Avvar, all holding either hammers, axes, or bows. Their bodies were covered with dark brown and yellow paints, and they wore animal pelts for loincloths.

If we ended up fighting them, I was going to have to ignore the urge to oggle. Holy shit, they were the perfect balance between toned and muscular. Not to mention their pelts hung low on their hips, displaying toned abs and happy trails that would have had me drooling. Had the situation not been serious, I would’ve oggled to my heart’s content.

However, the Hand of Korth was not a patient man. The moment he saw Lavellan, he began lumbering towards us, greataxe swinging as he shouted, “Herald of Andraste! Face me! I am the Hand of Korth himself!”

As I stepped forward with Lavellan, three nearby Avvar trained their bows on me, their eyes narrowed. “Only the Herald of Andraste may fight. The challenge was issued to her alone. You will be still.”

I growled at the Avvar, fully prepared to attack them myself, when Bull’s hand came down on my head, gently gripping one of my horns. “Stand down, Herah. The Inquisitor can handle this. Just watch.”

If Bull was telling me to stay back, then I had no choice. I gave one last growl, then turned back.

Lavellan met him halfway, not even blinking as the greataxe swung downwards towards her head. The blade met only a barrier that exploded upon impact, sending the Avvar staggering backwards. Stave spinning in the air, Lavellan let loose a cascade of icicles, only to grimace as the man shook them off like dust. Apparently the Avvar had a high tolerance for cold.

Roaring like a beast, the Hand of Korth barrelled towards Lavellan like a rock slide. His every step rattled the keep like a tiny earthquake. Several stones fell from the rafters and broken walls to shatter on the floor below. Some of the Avvar had to find new spots as the bricks above them came loose. Their leader didn’t seem to care, though. His focus remained on Lavellan, who was trying her best to dodge falling bricks and a greataxe.

The battle took a turn for the worse when Lavellan, in the midst of casting another spell, slipped on a brick. She stumbled off-balance, and the Hand of Korth took that moment to land a bruising punch to her sternum. The force of it knocked her off her feet and threw her against a pillar. She coughed as she tried to suck air back into her stunned lungs.

My mind was a blur of anger and panic. How could anyone expect Lavellan, who was still healing from her fight with The Elder One, to take down this man alone?! It was insane, magic or not! She couldn’t take on this man alone. I wouldn’t stand for it!

In three leaps, I was standing between Lavellan and the Hand of Korth, teeth bared in a savage growl. The Hand only laughed, his lips twisted into an ugly sneer.

“You need your dragon to defend you? Are you so weak that you can’t face me alone? How pathetic!” he shouted, garnering laughs from his fellow clansmen. I heard Lavellan grunt behind me, and I felt her hand on my back.

“It’s alright, Herah,” she whispered, her voice as hard as stone. I turned and saw her eyes - normally a soft green - glowing with the same green energy as the Anchor on her hand. “Go back to the others. I’ll finish this in a moment.”

With my heart warring between concern and extreme disapproval, I retreated to Bull’s side. I wanted to help her, to defend her like I should have been, but she’d sidelined me without a second thought. I felt more hurt than anything, yet a small part of me scolded me for my rashness. The challenge had been for Lavellan. Had she not been capable of defending herself, she would have chosen a different route to get the soldiers back. She could handle this, as much as I disliked the idea of her fighting alone.

True to her word, Lavellan took down the beast of a man. After many fiery explosions and a few well-placed lightning bolts, she manage to get him to retreat. As he backed up under a section of brick ceiling, Lavellan set a fire mine behind him and threw another fireball. The second he stepped on the mine, a blast of fire sent him flying up a few feet and fall with a thud. The impact of his landing triggered the column next to him to buckle, which in turn caused the already-loose ceiling above him to crumble. Stones of various sizes rained down on him, distracting him long enough for Lavellan to lift a large brick with magic and hover it high over his head.

When she let if fall, it landed with a sickening crunch. The Hand of Korth staggered and fell to his knees, blood spilling from his half-crushed skull and broken neck. He was dead before he hit the floor. From across the room, the scent of fresh blood and gore assaulted my nose, a coppery smell that got worse when combined with the humid air.

Lavellan had won.

The Avvar dispersed shortly afterwards, silently disappearing into the bog without a word. Without the challenge, they had no reason to stay. Unlike us, there was nothing for them here.

A quick search of the dead Avvar resulted in two prizes: a key to a nearby room, and his giant greataxe. Lavellan gave the greataxe to Bull, which he happily accepted, though he mumbled something about the mud and blood caked on it. Lavellan took the key and made her way towards the door. Her hands shook as she fumbled to put said key into the lock, and had Varric do it instead when she dropped the damn thing.

“I’ll be fine,” she said quietly. But her face told me a different story. Her skin was pale, turning her green tattoos almost black in the torchlight. She hugged her sides carefully, and wheezed whenever she took a breath.

“Sounds like you’ve got a few fractured ribs, Boss,” Bull remarked, as if stating the obvious.

Solas moved to her side, hands already glowing with healing energy, but Lavellan swatted at him. A quiet word in Elvish got her to stop fidgeting, allowing him to work. By the time Varric had the door open, the Inquisitor was almost fully healed and able to stand up straight.

Inside the locked room sat six soldiers, all wearing Inquisition colors. They looked worn out and battered, and one sported a bad broken leg, but they were all alive. Their expressions were full of relief and gratitude, and each insisted on shaking Lavellan’s hand and thanking her. They claimed that they knew she would come to rescue them, that she wouldn’t leave them to die.

Seeing as we couldn’t just leave the soldiers there to wait for help, we got them ready to move. Only the soldier with the broken leg couldn’t walk on his own, and Bull was more than willing to carry him back to the nearest camp. With five extra swords to fight corpses, letting Bull become medical transportation wasn’t so bad.

As we were leaving the hold, we paused as a familiar voice called out to us.

“Your god looks after you, Herald,” Sky Watcher said as he came up the stone steps. He looked towards the far end of the battered hall, easily spotting the single corpse in a pool of blood. “There lies the brat. His father, chief of our holding, would duel me for the loss, if he cared enough.”

Lavellan was quiet for a moment, lips pursed in thought. Then she smiled and said, “The Inquisition has a purpose your chief lacks. Join us. Help us seal the rifts.”

Sky Watcher seemed taken aback by the sudden offer, his eyes widening behind his mask. “Is this why the Lady of the Skies led me here? To help heal the wounds in her skin?” The Avvar considered the choice, then gave Lavellan a curt nod. “Aye, I’ll join you. Let me make peace with my kin, and I’ll find where you set your flag.”

One handshake later, we had accomplished what we’d set out to do and more. Six of six soldiers rescued, plus a new ally to have our backs. The Inquisition was on a roll! And the best part was that we were finished with the Mire! We could go home to Skyhold and enjoy the nice weather. I’d had enough of rain for the next couple years. If I saw one more drop before I turned twenty-five, I’d pitch a fit and try to set the sky on fire.

One of Leliana’s crows was waiting for us when we returned to the main camp. The requisitions officer there held its letter, addressed to Varric and still unopened. The dwarf cursed as he read it, and I took the chance to peek over his shoulder at it.

The paper was blank, save for two words written in Leliana’s smooth script.

_They’ve arrived.  
_


	22. A Pair of Hawkes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a short chapter this week. I promise I'll have something longer next week. I just need to get some things sorted out, then I'm free to use my weeknights for writing again. Cheers!

In the two weeks we’d been gone, Skyhold had transformed. Gone were the leaky roofs and crumbling walls, replaced by beautifully woven tapestries and tall stone statues. Apparently Josie and Vivienne had been given the go-ahead to begin the decorating. Their combined tastes in decor left me rolling my eyes, but it was good to see the castle in better spirits. While we were in need of supplies and new weapons, nothing could replace a good boost to morale. 

What wasn’t a good boost to morale was, in fact, Cassandra Pentaghast’s current mood.

The moment we arrived in Skyhold, Varric had been greeted by one of Leliana’s departing scouts. A quick word between them and the dwarf dragged Lavellan off to the southern ramparts, calling apologies back as they went. He had been quiet about the letter he’d received, and had avoided answering my questions. I didn’t mind his silence. He would probably tell us about it once we had all gotten a little food and rest.

No more than a few moments later, the fury that was Cassandra burst from the castle’s double doors. Her gaze pinned us where we stood and, like a guided missile, she wasted no time in heading straight for us. Her face was a cold mask of disgust, but I could see the way she narrowed her eyes as she searched our group. She was looking for Varric. I couldn’t shake the sudden feeling of dread building in my gut, so I did the most logical thing a dragon like myself could do. I hid behind The Iron Bull.

“Where is he?” she bellowed. Her hands were clenched so tightly that I could hear the sound of her leather gloves creaking. She reminded me of a bear, ready to strike at anyone or anything that got too close. I suddenly missed being a small dragon. Was there a way to change my size again?

“He is with the Herald at the moment,” Solas said calmly, nodding towards the steps that led to the ramparts. “Did you wish to speak with him?”

Cassandra’s gaze snapped to the stone wall, looking for any sign of the dwarf and elf. When she couldn’t find them, she turned back to Solas with a scowl.

“What I wish is for that lying bastard’s head sitting on a spike!” she spat, her voice taking on a venomous tone.

“Oof, that’s harsh,” Bull muttered. I barked in agreement. “What’d he do to deserve that?”

Cassandra opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated when she realized the entire courtyard had its eyes on us. Instead, she pursed her lips and stalked away, back towards the castle. “I’m sure you will figure it out soon enough.” 

As we watched her retreating form, the three of us exchanged a confused look. Actually, no. Only my expression was confused. Bull looked impressed, and Solas looked curious.

“If Cassandra’s that bent outta shape over Varric, I think I know who his guests are,” the qunari said with a grin.

“Indeed. One can only assume that he’s contacted the Champions of Kirkwall,” Solas replied as he dismounted from his horse. “Their help will be invaluable in the days to come, I’m sure. I do hope the Seeker does not strangle Varric in the meantime.”

“If she does, Dorian owes me a few silvers.” Bull grinned and waggled his eyebrows. Solas grimaced and turned away as a stable boy hurried over to him and took his horse’s reins.

“I do not think the Seeker would appreciate your humor.”

“Hey, I’m just calling it like I see it.”

“One must wonder how decent your sight is with only one eye.”

“Well I can see you, Solas. And the Inquisitor. I can see you both juuuust fine.”

Solas had no rebuttal for this. He simply hummed and walked away, leaving Bull to grin. What he knew, I had no idea, but he looked smug as hell so it had to be something interesting. I chattered at him curiously, but he just handed the stable boy his mount’s reins and sauntered off towards the tavern, whistling a merry tune. Rude.

Instead of following The Iron Bull, I decided to check out the many fixes to Skyhold. Most of the debris in the courtyard was cleared away, giving the workers more space for temporary scaffolding. Cullen’s table had been moved somewhere else, replaced by two more tents for the surgeon. A large banner with the Inquisition’s eye hung from the castle wall, fluttering in the breeze. Most of the people in the courtyard were workers or soldiers, but there were a few civilians here and there. I could easily pick out the Orlesians in the crowd. Their masks glinted in the midday light, catching my eye like a lighthouse in the distance. 

Skyhold had truly turned into a place of pilgrimage. How many more people would arrive here? Would we be able to feed them all? I could only wonder how the hell Josie could find the money for everything. Could she turn thread into gold, like the woman in the story of Rumpelstiltskin? It’d certainly explain all the gold in her clothes.

Shaking my head, I pushed that absurd idea out of my mind and headed for the stairs to the ramparts. I wanted to know who Lavellan was talking to. I’d just spy for a little bit, not to listen or anything, just to see.

When I reached the top of the stairs, my breath caught in my throat. I’d never noticed, but the view from Skyhold was… amazing, to put it mildly. The world beyond the high stone walls had a cold beauty to it. I could see a dozen white-capped mountains from where I stood, each of their peaks grazing the low-hanging clouds in the sky. Puffs of pure white snow drifted across the mountainsides in flurries that blurred stone and sky together. It was hard to believe that Skyhold sat at the same altitude, yet the temperature within its walls always remained as warm as a late spring day. How was such a difference possible? 

I stored that question away for later and looked around, scanning the walls for any clues about Lavellan or Varric’s whereabouts. At first, I couldn’t see any sign of them. It was like they had vanished. Then I spotted Varric descending the stairs on the south side of the ramparts, Lavellan missing from his side. Did that mean she was still on the wall somewhere? 

Suddenly feeling nervous, I took off at a brisk trot towards the southern tower, dodging guard patrols and stray scouts the entire way. You wouldn’t think there would be so many people walking around up there, but apparently Cullen wasn’t taking an chances. No surprise attacks for Skyhold.

As I neared the tower, I spotted Lavellan on one of the lower walkways. She was talking to a man and a woman, both of whom had startling blue eyes and deep red scars on their noses. The man had a short beard and had his hair cut fairly short, and he leaned against the railing as he spoke. The woman stood next to him, her arms crossed over her chest. Her hair was the same shade of black, but she wore hers in a low ponytail. Their expressions, like their faces, matched in seriousness. The conversation was probably meant to be private, but I couldn’t help wanting to get closer. So I swallowed my nerves and crept forward along the stone walkway, slowly but surely sneaking towards the group. 

“...so Corypheus has the Venatori, the red templars, and now possibly the Wardens as well? Wonderful,” I heard Lavellan mutter. I was at the stairs now, and a quick glance around the stone railing revealed she was pinching the bridge of her nose. The conversation must have taken a bad turn.

“We didn’t come this far just to give you bad news,” the new woman said with a shrug. Her blue eyes flicked to the man, who nodded in agreement.

“Marian’s right. We’ve got a friend in the Wardens. He was investigating something unrelated for us.” The man pushed off from the wall and walked towards the stairs and me. I ducked back, hoping he hadn’t spotted me. “His name is Alistair. The last time we spoke, he was worried about corruption in the Warden ranks. Since then, nothing.”

“Ah, that’s not quite true, Garrett,” Marian interjected with a sigh. “We did receive a letter from him a few weeks ago. Apparently he’s hiding in an old smuggler’s den near Crestwood.”

Crestwood? Where was that? It sounded like a lovely place, aside from the smugglers. Would that be our next destination?

“If you don’t mind my asking, what were you investigating?” Lavellan asked. “If you didn’t know about Corypheus, what were you doing with the Wardens?”

Garrett grumbled and shrugged his shoulders, effectively pushing his furry hood up to his ears. “The templars in Kirkwall were using a strange form of lyrium. It was red.”

Red templars in Kirkwall? I hissed at the thought of another village like Haven being overrun with those monsters. Crestwood might have to wait, if this Kirkwall place was in danger.

Lavellan hummed. “Thank you for the information. I appreciate your help. Both of you.”

“We’re doing this as much for ourselves as for you,” Marian said frankly.

“She’s right,” Garrett added. “Corypheus is our responsibility. We thought we’d killed him before. This time, we’ll be sure of it.”

The three of them were silent for a moment, and I took a moment to try and understand what they’d just said. They had killed Corypheus before? How? Was the monster immortal? How could he still be alive if those two had killed him? Was it because of all that red lyrium in his body? If that was the case, then the Inquisition needed to find a way to get it off of him or possibly find a cure. Was there even a cure for that stuff? From what I’d seen in the red lyrium future, it didn’t seem possible.

“Garrett, why are you smiling like that?” Marian asked, her voice low with confusion and wariness. “You’re making me nervous.”

“Oh, no reason, dear sister,” the man replied. He seemed to be enjoying something, judging from his smug tone. What was happening? Had something funny happened down in the courtyard? I wanted to see!

Overcome by curiosity, I lifted my head just enough so I could see over the half-wall separating me from the newcomers. Instead of seeing something funny, however, I suddenly found myself staring into a pair of smiling sky blue eyes. The man named Garrett was no longer leaning against the ramparts a few yards away. In the time I hadn’t been looking, he had closed the distance between us. He rested his chin on the rough stone block, his scruffy face now less than a foot from mine.

“I see you!” he said cheerfully.

A wave of panic washed over me like a bucket of cold water dumped on my head, and I couldn’t keep back the loud shriek that bubbled up from my throat. My claws clacked loudly against stone as I scrambled backwards, desperate to get some distance between us. What kind of nutcase was this guy? Who would ever get that close to a dragon?! Even if that dragon was supposed to be tame, shoving your face into a wild animal’s was begging for some kind of injury!

Seeing my reaction, Lavellan quickly moved to block Garrett from view. “Shhh, Herah. Dar’atisha. Forgive Garrett, he meant no harm.”

“Andraste’s tits, Garrett! Are you trying to get your nose bitten off?” Marian, face flushed with embarrassment, stepped forward and grabbed the offending man by his ear. Two quick tugs and Garrett was wincing and leaning towards her, trying to alleviate the sudden discomfort.

“Release my ear, foul wench! How can you be so cruel to your own brother?” he whined.

Oh right, he had called Marian “sister” just a moment ago. Now that I had a chance to actually look at them, it was more than obvious that they were related. They were both the same height, a few inches below six feet, and they had the same upturned eyes and long eyelashes. However, while Garrett had a bulkier build, Marian had a toned body that reminded me of Leliana. She even had the same kind of walk; each step was placed carefully ahead of the last, like a cat stalking its prey. On the other hand, Garrett was all muscle and brawn - which I would never complain about. His armor showed off his biceps quite nicely. It looked like I had another fellow to oggle in Skyhold.

My love for muscles was interrupted as Garrett, after freeing himself from his sister’s grasp, took a few steps around Lavellan and held out his hand to me. I narrowed my eyes at him, and he smiled apologetically in response.

“Hey, let’s start over, okay?”

I kept my eyes narrowed but nodded in agreement. As long as he didn’t pull any more surprise crap, I’d be happy to give him a chance.

“My name is Garrett Hawke,” he said cheerfully, “and that’s my twin sister Marian Hawke behind me. It’s very nice to finally meet you.”

Marian laughed and added, “You’re being so polite, dear brother! I feel like I’m seeing an entirely new you.” Her blue eyes drifted from her brother to me, and she winked. “Garrett’s been dying to meet you.”

“Hey! Don’t ruin this for me!” Garrett hissed. I couldn’t help the little flutter in my stomach at Marian’s comment. This guy wasn’t scared of me, and had in fact been looking forward to this? Either he really was a nut, or...maybe he was someone like Lavellan? Could he be someone I could trust? I didn’t know now, but the idea of having more than one friend was a huge comfort.

With my heart doing somersaults, I lifted one of my big paws and dropped it into Garrett’s still-open hand. He gripped my claws firmly but gently, a huge grin spreading across his face once again. For a minute, he looked like a kid meeting a famous superhero, all excitement and no disappointment. His joy was contagious, and I found myself smiling on the inside.

If only they knew how many questions I would be asking them that night. I already had a mental list four pages long. But that could wait for now. At that moment, I just wanted to enjoy the small bit of sunshine Garrett and Marian Hawke had brought to my world.


	23. Questions and Answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick Note: Bless you all for sticking with me through a month of sparse updates. I'm serious, you guys are amazing. I want to get back on track for weekly updates again, so hopefully I'll have the next chapter done by next Sunday if work is kind. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

With the Hawke twins finally introduced, the day took on a different kind of tension than before. Preparations for the journey to Crestwood began immediately, leaving me to wander the fortress with nothing to do but wait.

As I watched from the ramparts as Lavellan and the Hawke twins headed into the castle, I couldn’t help but sigh. Traveling was nice and all, but resting was nice too. I’d been looking forward to sleep a day away, or at least find myself some kind of bath. I was also worried for Varric after Bull’s comment about Cassandra strangling him, but there wasn’t much I could do. The woman was a force of nature when she wanted to be, and I knew better than to get in her way. Wherever Varric was hiding, I wanted to be on the other side of Skyhold.

I made my way down into the courtyard, winding my way around the workers and nobles within its walls. I could feel their eyes on me, from the glances to the suspicious gazes. I ignored them and kept my chin high, trying to act like the dragons Bull would always go on about. They were beasts of untamed beauty and deadly grace, a physical being of raw power. Even the young ones were deadly, and I was as young as they got, despite my appearance.

It was strange to think that just two months ago I’d been the size of a small cat. Then again, I hadn’t grown naturally, or at least I assumed it hadn’t been natural. Did dragons normally have growth spurts that ended with bleeding gashes and scales falling off? I could recall the desire to be larger, to help Lavellan reach the safety of the camp before frostbite set in, but not much more. Had I used some kind of dragon magic?

Picking up my pace, I hurried up the stone steps and into the fortress. There weren’t any dragon experts in Skyhold, but I had several people who knew a lot about magic.

* * *

The first mage I found was Solas. He was sitting at a desk in the large rotunda, his sharp eyes darting across the pages of the thick book in front of him. He had changed into a fresh tunic and leggings, and his skin was dirt-free once more. With all his knowledge of the Fade and dreams, he was bound to know if dragons had more magic, right? It was worth a shot to ask.

Shuffling forward, I pressed my chest against the edge of his desk and nestled my head in the middle of his book. He was silent for a moment, then his eyes flickered to mine as he sighed.

“Is there something you require, Herah?”

I let out a happy coo, glad that he’d caught on. He chuckled quietly and tapped his fingers against the underside of my chin. I lifted my head, and he slid his book out from under me and placed it to the side. Then he pulled out a piece of blank parchment and a well of ink, and set them in front of me.

“Ask your question, though I cannot promise I will have the answer you want.”

Careful not to spill the ink, I dipped a single claw into the liquid and began scratching at the parchment. Eventually the chicken-scratch lines turned into letters, and the letters turned into a sentence.

_Do dragons have magic?_

Solas peered at me curiously. “A strange question, but one I can answer. Dragons do have magical capabilities, though I know only so much from my travels.”

I nodded and scratched out another question: _Can you tell me about it?_

Solas sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “I have seen dragons display several skills. You breathe fire, do you not? That in itself is a skill you have learned.”

Thinking back, I grimaced. I’d burped and set a tree on fire. I guess that technically counted as learning, but it was embarrassing to remember. Thank goodness Solas couldn’t read my mind. I pushed the memory away and scribbled down another question.

_How did I change size? Is that a skill?_

As he read my question, Solas’ gaze grew distant. “I will admit, I have been pondering this since your reappearance after Haven. I have seen enchantments that can change an item’s size, yet they only work on non-living things. Mages who have been trained may shapeshift, yet you are a dragon. As I said, your magic differs from my own or any human’s.”

His words were interesting, but not exactly what I was hoping to hear. Why did magic have to be so complicated? Why couldn’t it have a solid explanation, like science? All this conversation was doing was giving me a headache.

Despite my lack of attention, Solas continued to talk. “In theory, you could have been placed under a spell to keep you small, though that would make sense had you once belonged to someone. Are you still unable to remember anything before our meeting on the Storm Coast?”

My memories provided little help. They felt like a photo slowly going out of focus. Before the Storm Coast, I had been at home, planning a visit to my aunt. After that, my memories began getting fuzzy. I remembered glimpses of small things. A silver chain drifting down over my eyes. A half-full cup of coffee forgotten. The deep voice of my cello as I played a new song.

Then there was panic, enough to make me feel like the world was closing in.

I shook my head at the memory, trying to force it from my head, but it wouldn’t go. It felt like a leech, draining the calm from my mind. The world suddenly looked too bright and too dark at the same time, and the stones under my feet felt like shards of ice. Backing up rapidly, I continued to shake my head. Blood roared in my ears, drowning out my senses.

Oh god, I was having a panic attack. I was having an attack and I needed to calm down. Shit shit shit, I needed to breathe but it felt like I was swallowing fire. I opened my mouth to shriek, but only a choked whine came out. Was the room getting smaller? Why did it feel like the room was getting smaller?!

Then I realized Solas was standing in front of me, his hands lifted and glowing with a faint blue light. His expression was neutral and calm, and when I looked into his eyes, I felt my anxiety slip away bit by bit. My throat began to relax as well, and when I inhaled, my vision spun like a top. The strength went out of my legs and, before I could stop myself, I fell to the floor in a limp heap. I was too tired to walk or stand or even lift a claw.

I didn’t know what sort of spell Solas had used, but my attack had passed faster than any before, and I was grateful. I wanted to apologize to him for my outburst, but I felt the gentle tug of sleep behind my eyes, calling for me to rest. I didn’t have the energy to protest or keep my eyes open any longer, so I let exhaustion pull me away into the realm of sleep. Into the Fade.

* * *

I drifted through a few dreams while I slept. One moment I was standing in my hometown’s tiny creek, watching the minnows nibble at my toes. The next I was sitting in my aunt’s garden, trying to destroy the weeds but pulling out the food-bearing plants instead. The next shift had me sitting under a withered tree on top of a hill, its branches peppered with crows calling out their discordant song.

I wasn’t taking part in any of these events myself. I watched everything as if I was watching TV. The scenes would shift whenever I grew bored with each image, as if I was changing channels. Nothing seemed to hold my interest.

Nothing, that is, until I saw my aunt.

The scene itself wasn’t very strange. It was the interior of my cabin, tiny and cluttered as always. Nothing seemed out of place at first glance. But when I saw my cello leaning against the couch haphazardly, its bow on the floor next to it, I knew something was wrong. I never left my instruments out like that. That was begging for the wood to warp, especially if weather was bad outside. Humidity could damage it, and I had no way of repairing it right away.

I reached out to pick it up but my hand phased through it, as if it was a hologram. Or maybe I was a ghost? Trying again, I frowned when the same thing happened.

Was this another dream?

Looking around, I began to pick out even more details that were wrong. I couldn’t read any of the sheet music anymore; the letters and notes slid off the page like rain on a windshield, pooling on the floor in black puddles. The windows let in the early morning light, but when I looked outside, I couldn’t see any trees or even the lake. It was like a videogame that hadn’t completely loaded. It was disconcerting to look at, and I backed away from the sight.

“Maggie, dear, come back to me.”

My gaze snapped from the windows to the alcove that had served as my bedroom. The curtain had been pulled from its moorings, and it lay tangled in the pile of sheer fabric. The window on the far side of the room provided little light, but it was enough to see.

On the floor near the foot of my bed sat Aunt Ellen, half-covered in dirt and dressed in her gardening clothes. Strands of her hair fell from her bun and into her face like vines of white, contrasting against her old sun-kissed skin. She was focused on something in her lap. Something small and shaking and…

It was me. I was the trembling thing on the floor in front of her, curled up so tight I could see the bumps of my spine through my shirt.

_That’s right_ , I thought to myself. _I had a panic attack. I remember calling my aunt, but after that…_

Suddenly the dream wobbled unstably, forcing me to look away from my aunt. Parts of the dream began disappearing altogether, stretching away into the frightening void beyond it. Afraid, I looked back at my aunt and opened my mouth to call out, but she spoke first.

“I suppose it’s as good a time as any,” she said with a sigh. She reached onto my bed and pulled the top quilt off, wrapping the blue and green checkered fabric around my shaking body. “Let’s be off, dearie.” She pressed her hand to my cheek, calming my other self down until the shaking slowed to a stop. I could feel her touch on my own cheek, warm and callused and comforting. It made me aware of just how much I missed being near her and hearing her voice. She was always kind, even when she scolded me. I missed her stories, her garden, and even the ginger and honey tea she liked to drink. I missed playing my cello for her even more.

Would I ever be able to see her again?

Caught up in my thoughts, I didn’t notice the floor beneath me spinning into black until the whole scene fell away. I was caught in the current, and it dragged me down into the murky blackness like an anchor.

* * *

After waking from my spell-induced sleep, I spent the rest of the day roaming Skyhold listlessly, looking for some way to distract myself. I didn’t want to think about the dream or my aunt out of fear of having another anxiety attack. I’d inconvenienced Solas during that whole mess, and I didn’t want to do that to anyone else.

However, that left me to wander the fortress alone, trying to find some way to keep my mind busy.

The garden was full of people praying, and Mother Giselle had stopped me at the door and politely asked me to stay away. She had explained that many people still thought of dragons as terrible and deadly creatures, and that my presence would only harm their already-damaged minds. I had been with the inquisition for just over two months, yet there were some who believed I would not remain so friendly once I grew up. As much as I wanted to look at flowers and help weed things, I wasn’t about to force myself on anyone.

The tavern was out of the question. The Iron Bull was always entertaining during the later hours of the day, but once again I was reluctant to be around people. Had I gone anyway, the smell of alcohol and body odor would have gotten on my nerves immediately. Plus, I’d heard Cole had taken up residence on the top floor. I was better off going somewhere else.

There were a few other places I crossed off my mental list as I walked. No library, Dorian would just talk my ear off. I couldn’t go to the undercroft, since I would just end up in Harritt’s way. Cullen’s office was still a mess, and I didn’t feel like getting stepped on by one of his soldiers. The surgeon’s tent was just depressing. The stables were nice, but there was a new shipment of mounts coming in, according to Josie, and Dennet didn’t want the stalls smelling like a predator.

Somehow, in all my wandering, I ended up on the southern ramparts, my head resting on the low stone railing. From my vantage point, I could see the recruits down below slashing at the practice dummies, and I could smell food cooking in the tavern. The sun was close to the horizon now, bathing the world with orange light. Soon it would set, and the stars would come out. I hadn’t learned much about the different constellations, but Varric had showed me one of a dragon some time ago. He’d called it Draco or something like that, and had told me a story about it. To be honest, I’d figured he was lying again. He had a tendency to spin some very tall tales.

Varric. Tall tales. Oh, that was good.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a dragon laugh before.”

I lifted my head from the stone and turned, surprised to see Garrett Hawke leaning against the wall next to me. He smelled of alcohol, but his bright blue eyes were clear. He must have been in the tavern recently. I chattered at him and watched as he sat down facing me, his expression one of suppressed excitement.

“Maker’s breath, you're a beauty,” he gushed. “Just look at those scales! You’ve got to be a Highland Ravager, you've got the horns. Then again, you’ve got those little ones between the big ones. You could be an entirely new breed, never seen before!” Garrett paused for a minute, glanced around the ramparts, then whipped off his glove and stuck his arm in my face. “Will you bite me? Right here on the arm?”

For a moment, I was too stunned to think. This guy I’d met just a few hours prior was asking me, a dragon, to bite him on the arm. A very hairy arm, too. Good god, the man was a bear, but here he was, sitting in front of me, basically asking for something like an autograph. It was an odd request, and something I would definitely have to decline.

I narrowed my eyes at him and huffed, turning my gaze back to the courtyard. I heard Garrett whine, but eventually he settled for cautiously scratching my back. When I didn’t object, he chuckled and kept going. We didn’t speak much at first. He seemed content to scratch me, and I was happy to be scratched. It was a win-win situation for both of us.

“So how are you so...approachable?” Garrett asked after a few beats of silence. “All the dragons I’ve met have been cranky and violent. Well, except for one, but that one was a mage. Quite a weird one at that, but that’s besides the point. Did you just wake up one day, and decide to be nice to everyone you met?”

I snorted and rolled my eyes. Oh, if only he knew how close that was to the truth.

Garrett, unaware of my thoughts, hesitated in his scratching. “Did I get it wrong? I don’t speak dragon.” I could practically hear him frowning next to me. Before I could stop myself, I turned and licked his forehead affectionately. He gaped like a goldfish for a good minute, clearly surprised, then broke out into a huge grin that threatened to split his face in half. It was oddly cute to see him so happy.

“If it’s alright with you, could we talk just a little more?” he asked. “Varric said you can write in Common. You could spell it on my hand if you like?”

I wasn’t ready to go anywhere yet, so I nodded and turned to face him. Despite his eagerness, he started with simple questions.

“How old are you?”

_Young,_ I wrote. Sort of true, but I wasn’t about to tell him I was twenty-three.

“Where did you come from?”

_The Storm Coast._ Technically true.

“Did you grow up there?”

_No._

“Where were you born, then?”

_Far away._

“Ooh, how vague. How was growing up?”

_Lots of fighting._ I hesitated to answer that one, but my answer felt true enough. It seemed like dragons were solitary creatures in this world.

“Did you have a lot of brothers and sisters?”

When he mentioned brothers, I flinched so hard I made him jump. Thoughts of my brothers flooded my mind. Why did he have to go and remind me of Andy and Logan, just when I was feeling happy again? Why did everything I encounter today make me think about the family I had either left behind or been abandoned by? My aunt was easier to think about, since she had become the only family I cared about, but Andy and Logan…

Wait. What had they looked like again?

“Uh, Herah? Are you...frowning?”

I shook my head violently and got to my feet, feeling sick to my stomach.

Why couldn’t I remember Andy and Logan’s faces? At one time, I could have pictured them perfectly in my mind, like a photograph in an album. Now I couldn’t recall what shade of brown their hair was, or which one of them had the birthmark on their cheek.

The worst part was it wasn’t just them. I couldn’t remember a number of faces, from my old classmates to my favorite tutors. Everyone from Earth was slightly fuzzy, each of them a smear of color against an even blurrier backdrop. It was an awful realization, and I felt the urge to puke.

Then Garrett was at my side again, his hand rubbing light circles on my side. It was dulled through my scales, but it was a comforting gesture. The bile in my throat retreated, and I gulped down a few lungfuls of air before looking at him.

He was smiling again, though this time it was a gentle smile that conveyed a message: I am your friend.

“I’m sorry if I upset you, Herah. Maker knows that’s the last thing I’d ever want to do.”

Even if part of it was a joke, it was still a sincere apology. I accepted it with a nod and a purr, and the two of us went back to our previous activities: scratching and being scratched.

We watched the sunset together from our hideaway on the ramparts, enjoying the comfortable silence. And once the stars had come out, Garrett showed me the constellations he could name, their patterns popping out against the inky black sky.

And for a while, I was happy to just sit and stare at the sky. For all I cared, the world could wait.


	24. Why Can't I Forget?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you to all you lovely readers who put up with me and cheer me on when I'm stuck in a mental hole and can't write. Your comments during the last week gave me the boost I needed to finally finish this chapter. I hope it's not too much of a downer.

You know what’s worse than fighting zombies in the rain?

Fighting goddamn demons _and_ zombies in the rain.

In other words, Crestwood was not the beautiful glen I had originally pictured. What I got instead was a tiny waterlogged village, a fortress full of bandits, and rift apparently at the bottom of a lake.

If only we could have skipped the rift and gone straight for the Grey Warden. But no, we were the Inquisition, and we had to assist the village being overrun by corpses and demons. The Grey Wardens looking for Garrett and Marian’s friend were of no help whatsoever. Not that we couldn’t handle it. With Lavellan, Solas, and Bull we were more than capable of taking down whatever came our way.

Unfortunately, we also had Cole tagging along. At Lavellan’s request, Cole and I had a sort of temporary “friendship” going. Lavellan knew I was uncomfortable around the boy, and he around me, yet she had insisted this would be a good bonding experience for us. Her intentions were good, but completely off the mark. Cole knew that as well, and had said as much to me before leaving Skyhold. He had even asked if I would be happier if he stayed behind. With his mind-reading powers, he knew immediately that my answer was no, and that I’d feel like I was bullying him. So...yeah. I was stuck with him.

The village itself was fairly small, or at least smaller than Haven had been, and the population was dwindling every day. The houses were built on the slope of a hill, their shutters pulled and locked against the wind. Lanterns swung next to each house’s front door, but many of them had gone out or were guttering pathetically in the rain. Beautiful murals had been painted onto a few structures, depicting anything from animals to mandalas. Yet the constant exposure to the elements had reduced many to dull colors, robbing them of their beauty.

We didn’t spend a lot of time in the village. The mayor, while reluctant to ask for help, pointed us towards the dam controls in the fortress up the road. We left soon after, though not before getting a clear idea of what kind of terrain we were heading into. The surrounding hills were full of the undead. Bandits stalked the road. And - according to just about every person we talked to - there was a dragon lurking in the southeast hills. Brilliant.

Yet despite all the bad, the countryside was still fairly beautiful. Pale flowers bloomed in every dry place, adding just a smidge of color to an otherwise dreary scene. The tall grasses of the upper hills were a vibrant green, and they were surprisingly fun for me to wander through. It was especially fun to chase the fennec foxes out of the bushes. They made the cutest chattering sounds.

Unfortunately, the fun couldn’t last forever. Taking the Caer back from the bandits took top priority, as it was the only way to get to the damn controls. From midday to almost sundown, we searched the fortress, hunting the mercenaries. When we did find some, a fight would usually break out, often ending with them dead on the floor. A few surrendered, and Lavellan spared their lives by taking them into Inquisition custody. Others fled to the hills, but Lavellan sent Inquisition scouts after them. She was firm in her decision that none of them go free until they were judged for their crimes.

By the time the Caer was under full Inquisition control, it was nightfall. The rain hadn’t let up all day, and every soldier and scout in sight was soaked to the bone. Everyone took shelter when they could, but it was hard to escape the wind. Many would probably get sick if the weather kept up.

For our little group, however, it was both a blessing as well as a curse that we ended up going underground. Despite my hopes, the giant rift in the lake hadn’t been sitting just under the water’s surface. No, it was underground, beneath the remains of Old Crestwood. Nobody was happy to go down there, not even Cole. The entrance stank of wet dirt and rot, and it made my stomach turn just looking at it.

But eventually, we had to continue in our quest. As the wooden door closed behind us with a wet thud, I couldn’t help but drag my feet. How far would we have to go down? Would we even find the rift? Did this passage even go in the right direction?

I just about lost my shit when I saw the wooden ramp leading downwards. The Fallow Mire was still fresh in my mind, and I was not about to start walking on rotten wooden boards again. There was no way I was going through that. I sat down right in front of the massive hole in the ground and turned my nose up at it.

Lavellan, looking quite frustrated, couldn’t do much aside from pinch the bridge of her nose and look between me and the path.

“We need to move, Herah,” she groaned. “The longer we dawdle, the more Crestwood will suffer. We need to get to that rift. Will you please move?”

A growl bubbled up from my throat, and I narrowed my eyes at the offending boards. Nope. That shit wasn’t about to hold me. It could barely hold Bull, and he weighed about as much as me. The two of us on that walkway at the same time would cause a collapse for sure.

“She thinks it will collapse,” Cole said quietly.

“You’ll be fine, Herah,” Lavellan grumbled. “You don’t weigh that much.”

“She believes it will be too much for her and Bull to be on at the same time,” the kid added.

I hissed at Cole, hinting for him to stop reading my thoughts again, when Lavellan let out a frustrated grunt and grabbed me firmly by the snout. She pulled my head around, none too gently, until I was looking into her narrowed green eyes.

“Enough!” she commanded, her voice echoing through the cavern. At her tone, all the stubbornness went out of my body. I could see her shoulders shaking in the dim torchlight. Shit, she was mad.

“Why must you be so difficult?” she demanded. “There is no time to find an easier path! As we speak, demons are coming through that rift into our world! Do you want more people to die while we sit here?! We need to keep moving, all you’re doing is acting like…like a child!!”

I froze in her grip, eyes wide. This wasn’t like Lavellan at all. She was never this mad. She’d never touched me like this before. Bile rose unbidden in my throat, signalling an incoming panic attack. I could hear another voice, a much more familiar one, grow louder over her echo.

“Why must you be this way? You have no choice in the matter, so stop acting like such a child.”

All at once, the world felt too still. The air was too calm, too suffocating. I felt like it was choking me. Had I been human, I would have started crying. Why was she so mad? Couldn’t she see I was uncomfortable? Did she need me down there so badly that she would risk our way out? What would happen if the boards collapsed and there was no other way out? I would be blamed, wouldn’t I? I was too heavy, I should have just gone back to the caer.

Suddenly I felt another hand on my snout, prying Lavellan’s fingers away carefully. It was Cole, looking even more sad than usual. He wouldn’t look me in the eyes, and I didn’t want him to. I knew he could hear my thoughts, my fears. My mind was like a violent hurricane full of terror. He didn’t need to look at me to know how I felt.

“She is afraid,” he said calmly, still holding Lavellan’s hands. “She worries there is no other way out, that there will be no escape if the walkway collapses.”

Hearing him speak my mind, sharing my thoughts freely with the group, made my insides turn to ice. Why did he have to talk? Why did he have to go saying what I was thinking? I didn’t want him sharing my weaknesses. I was a dragon. Dragons had no weaknesses.

I had to block him out. Block it all out.

Before he could say another word, I stood up and began trudging down the walkway. The boards squelched and sagged under my feet with every step. I was afraid, so afraid the whole structure would fall down, yet I purged the emotion from my face and kept walking. And as I walked, a memory slipped from the back of my mind, escaping the mental box I had kept it in.

_“...stop acting like such a child!”_

_“But I don’t want to stay home! I want to go to school and be with my friends! Why can’t I go?”_

_“Because you’ll turn this family into a laughingstock if you go out looking like...that!”_

As the memory drifted away, I let out a shuddering sigh. Why did I have to remember that now? When I closed my eyes, I could still see my father’s lip curling back in a sneer, his eyes filled with barely concealed disgust. In a matter of hours, I had gone from daughter to whore in his eyes. To him, his daughter had been replaced by a piece of garbage.

I had been allowed out of the house a few times in the five months following that conversation, and all of them had been to see a family doctor. My life had become a downward spiral of loneliness and anger, accented with spikes of fear. I’d learned to shield myself from my parents’ scorn by putting on a mental stone mask. If their tempers flared, I would close myself off until I could only hear them distantly. Like arrows on rock, their words would bounce off me without hurting me. I was safe from them like that.

And yet, despite my best efforts, every word had left a scar on me. I could clearly remember looking in the bathroom mirror and seeing myself not as a girl, but as a thing covered in a motley of scars and pock marks. Every flaw was magnified a thousand times over until I was nothing but a whittled down shadow with bags under its eyes and a monster in its belly.

Because of one mistake, I’d become less than human to my family.

Now I had no family, and I wasn’t even remotely human.

I began to wonder if it was the universe’s idea of a joke, but I didn’t ponder it for long. The entire time I’d been walking, I hadn’t been paying attention to where I was going. When I got a good look around, I realized I was in a completely new area, something like an ancient ruin built straight into the rock. Tall columns were half-dug out of the walls, holding the cavern ceiling high above my head. The walls were carved with deep parallel lines that ran the length of the hall and around the corner, out of sight.

If I’d had time to admire it, I would have, but demons began pouring from a nearby hole in the wall. I could hear them screaming and wailing as they approached, and I felt my heart seize up in my chest. They were moving so fast, crying out as their claws reached for me. Would they kill me, if they caught me? Or would they just give me more scars?

I’d take the scars over death any day.

Breathing deeply, I planted my feet wide and stood my ground. I felt a wave of strength pass over me, as if one of Solas’ barriers had fallen on me. But it was different. Instead of the bright feeling of magic, I only sensed a quiet stone-like force in front of me. An incoming spell from a wraith bounced off whatever was there, sending the blast off to the side.

Was this a new power, or just another fluke of magic? I didn’t stop to consider it.

A shrill screech tore from my throat, paralyzing several of them as they neared me. Those that still moved soon found themselves covered in fire as I spat at them with deadly accuracy. I scarcely felt anything as I fought. It was as if my body and soul were numb to everything around me. When one shade managed to get its claws into my hide, I barely flinched. I bit its neck before it could retreat, spattering the ground with ichor the color of night. I could taste it in my mouth, foul and gritty and slimy. But I kept going, kept fighting until the last demon fell under my claws and fire.

Still feeling numb, I didn’t realize the others were with me until I heard their voices.

“Herah, I...I am sorry I snapped at you,” Lavellan said softly. She stepped up to my side, just within my peripheral vision. She was breathing hard, possibly winded from the fight. I didn’t look at her, though. If I looked at her, I would either want to cry or want to scream. So I did the only thing I could do to get a message across.

I didn’t need to make a sound for Cole to appear next to me. I called his name in my head and he appeared next to me, silly hat and all. I didn’t bother looking at him either. I gave him a simple message to convey, then began walking forward once more.

“She wants to say...I followed your orders and walked. Friend or not, do not yell at me again.” Cole paused, then added. “Twisting, torn, tormented for my decision. Missing pieces, taken by words sharp as daggers. Not me, not her, who am I? I am...not.”

For once, I couldn’t even bring myself to try and shut him up. I was too numb, too tired to fight him as despair clawed at my heart. Hearing him speak like that made my whole body tremble. Any lingering energy I might have had from the fight slipped away, leaving an eerie calm in its place. I wanted to be alone again. I wanted to sit on the battlements of Skyhold and watch the stars above me and wonder if somewhere out there some kind of god was laughing at me. Was I pathetic for feeling like I did? Was it justified, or was I acting like a child like Lavellan said?

Honestly, I was too weary to care.

* * *

There wasn’t much left to the cavern after that fight. There were still demons around, but they were concentrated around the rift. The tear itself wasn’t much bigger than a regular one, but it spat out a good seven or eight big demons before Lavellan managed to seal it. We escaped with a few small injuries, but nothing that couldn’t be seen to after exiting the cave.

When I saw sunlight for the first time in what seemed like forever, I felt a tiny spark of relief zip through my heart. We had saved Crestwood from demons and undead. Mission accomplished. We could finally finish our original mission by finding the Hawke twins’ Grey Warden friend.

I should have been happy to move on to the next task, to help the rogue Warden who would in turn help us find the others, but I still felt numb from earlier. Despite the now-sunny weather, I was nothing but gloom. Not even seeing the Hawke twins lifted my spirits. Garrett greeted me with a smile and a wave, looking cheerful as ever. He waited for me to follow the others into Alistair’s cave, but I just shook my head and wandered down the hill, lost in my thoughts.

Eventually I sat down in a cluster of vibrant red flowers. Their smell was comforting, but not enough to cheer me up. If I’d had hands, I would have tried making a flower crown for myself. Before I could stop it, another memory escaped its confines, drowning me in nostalgia.

A long time ago, my brother Logan had made me a flower crown. I had been seven or eight, and I’d fallen down and skinned my knees while playing tag with him and Andrew. The crown had been made of white clover and had fallen apart easily, but to me it had been the most beautiful thing in the world. It had made me feel like a princess the moment it touched my head. I remembered smiling through my tears and thanking him, to which he had replied, “Anything for you, Maggie.”

What had happened to him? Where had that adorable and loving boy gone?

I growled and shook my head violently, trying to chase away the memories. Why couldn’t I keep them locked away like I wanted? Would they always loom over me like a bad dream? Would I ever just forget about my old life? I had wanted to move on, to start over fresh in this world, and yet every time something bad happened to me, I would remember something painful.

Was this supposed to be some twisted kind of closure? Was I supposed to just forgive my family for all the sadness? If that was the case, then I would be remembering things for the rest of my life. I had no intention of forgiving them. They had never apologized for how they’d treated me, so why would I consider giving them a free pass? No. Anyone who wronged me to save themselves would not be forgiven. For so many years, I had put up with the loneliness and anger and pain, swallowing it like a pill every day. And through it all, I had become an adult.

I was stronger because of it...right?

Before coming to Thedas, I would’ve been sure I was stronger.

Now, I wasn’t so sure anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my beta-reader was kind enough to leave me with this comment on Cole speaking Maggie's thoughts, even when she doesn't want him to:  
> "HE SAYS THEM BECAUSE YOU AREN’T. DON’T TALK ABOUT ONE’S NATURE, MAGGIE, WHEN YOU REFUSE TO ACKNOWLEDGE HIS."  
> I love my beta-reader. So sassy.


	25. Heart to Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! I made my deadline! I couldn't help but write an extra long chapter this time, so I hope this will keep you all happy until the next update. Please enjoy!

The trip from Crestwood to Skyhold was a solid four days of awkward air.

The Grey Warden, Alistair, had declined to return with us to Skyhold, claiming he needed to travel in secret, lest he alert his fellow Wardens of his position. Marian and Garrett would be traveling with him after he left Crestwood. They said it was for safety in numbers, and to split the trail if a Grey Warden patrol found them. I believed them, of course. Even Alistair, who I had only just met. He’d seemed like an honest fellow, if a little...odd.

* * *

“Maker’s breath, you actually have a dragon.”

I lifted my head from my nest of flowers, eyes darting towards the new voice. A man stood in the mouth of the cave at the top of the hill. He was half a head taller than Solas, with honey blond hair and golden brown eyes. He was dressed in silver and blue armor embellished with griffons, and a silver sword hung from his belt. He looked to be in his mid-forties, though it was hard to tell with all the scruff on his face. Was this the Warden?

He seemed...unusual. I couldn't place the reason why, but he stood out to me like a lighthouse in the middle of a storm. I resisted the urge to walk over and give him a sniff. I still wanted my space.

Lavellan was next to him, her expression unreadable in the shade.

“Yes,” I heard her say. “Her name is Herah. She’s been with us for a few months.”

“And she hasn’t bitten anyone?” The strange man narrowed his eyes, not bothering to show his aversion to me.

“Maker’s balls, Alistair, do you ever get tired of being so suspicious?” Garrett clapped the man on the back as he passed, a smug grin on his face.

“A healthy dose of suspicion never hurt anyone.” Alistair said with a roll of his eyes. Despite the obvious nudge from Garrett, he made no move to approach me yet. He looked content enough to watch the goofier Hawke twin stumble his way down the hill towards me.

When the goofy mage was within arms reach, he plopped down in the flowers and held his hand out to me, as if I were a pet that needed to sniff his hand. I flicked my tongue at him and settled back into the grass, my head resting on my paws. I was still tired from earlier, and the flowers were making me nostalgic. I felt better just lying amid the strange wildflowers and watching the world chatter away around me.

At my lack of interest, Garrett made an odd, fussy noise and began touching my head in various places. When I growled at him to stop, he made another noise and stood up. “Is something wrong with her?” he called back to Lavellan. “She’s not as feisty as usual! Did the rain make her sick?”

“You think a little rain is going to make a dragon sick?” Alistair chuckled and shook his head. “First time I’ve heard of that happening.”

“I believe she’s just tired,” Lavellan said simply. She crossed her arms over her chest and shrugged, looking fairly tired herself. “The caverns beneath Old Crestwood were overrun with demons. It left us all feeling a bit...strained.”

“Then perhaps you should think about finding a decent place to camp?” Alistair suggested. “Were I not being hunted by my own brothers in arms I would offer you a spot by my fire. However, I find myself in need of a little - shall we say - privacy, and your group is rather large to keep from attracting unwanted attention.” He snorted, then added. “That, and you’re also the leader of the Inquisition. It’s hard not to notice where you go.”

“Then we should depart before word spreads about your hiding place,” Lavellan said, offering her hand for him to shake. “My companions and I will be leaving for Skyhold in the morning. If you find yourself in the area before you cross the mountains, be sure to stop by. Leliana’s told me you’re a fan of Orlesian cheeses, yes?”

“My dear, you’re a woman after my own heart,” the Warden replied with a wink. He took Lavellan’s hand and gave it a firm shake. “Maybe working with the Inquisition won’t be so bad after all.”

“Told you!” Garrett shouted. Alistair snorted and fixed his friend with an amused look.

“Oh be quiet! You’ll wake the neighbors!”

* * *

While I was a little disappointed he wouldn’t be traveling with us, I couldn’t help but look forward to seeing him if he dropped by Skyhold. His personality seemed to be a joking one, when the conversation wasn’t serious. Not to mention he looked pretty damn good for someone living in a cave. Woah nelly, he had very a nice face.

Still, I could only daydream about chatting with him for so long before returning my mind to the present.

Lavellan and I didn’t look at each other very often during the four day-long journey, while on the road or in camp. I purposely kept my distance, suspicious that she might yell at me again if I messed up. Yes, she had apologized for her outburst in the caves, but that didn’t always mean someone was being sincere. How did I know if she was being serious or just trying to placate me? In truth, I didn’t know the difference. I had only known her a few months. Could you really become friends so quickly?

Solas and The Iron Bull seemed to be getting along better than Lavellan and me, and that was saying something. Usually the two of them couldn’t go a full minute without some kind of snarky banter or barbed comment. Yet for four straight days, they had been the picture of civility. They played verbal games of chess - which was extremely fascinating, if a little hard to follow - and talked about places they’d been during past adventures.

It was a wonderful distraction, listening to them talk. Their voices were an odd mix, but hearing them go on about the various corners of Thedas filled me with a sort of wanderlust. When I closed my eyes, I could easily picture the scenes they described. Old ruins, battles with giants, lush forests filled with exotic birds; it was all so vivid in my mind. Maybe I’d get to see those places one day.

So our journey was a little gloomy, but still bearable for me.

I was all too glad to return to Skyhold, not just for the sake of rest, but for the sake of personal space. Cole had been looming over me for part of the trip, though he might not have realized it right away. Without my snarls to keep him at arm’s length, he’d started hovering closer and closer to me. He didn’t speak or read my mind, thank goodness. He just...kept following me. It felt as if he was trying to become my shadow.

Without any immediate plans, I spent a fair amount of time wandering through Skyhold. Looking for things to do was quickly becoming a habit of mine. It was almost impossible for me to find a place to sit and relax after returning. Anxiety kept me from focusing on books or taking a simple rest, and I couldn’t to listen to someone talk for more than a few minutes at a time. And it absolutely didn’t help that Cole was still on my tail. I couldn’t see him, but I could smell him every so often. He wasn’t stinky, but he didn’t smell like a person either. He smelled off, like fresh air in a cloud of pollution.

I grimaced at the topic of Cole’s smell and steered my mind towards other more important matters. I had some kind of new shield spell - or possibly another fluke of magic - and I wanted to know how it worked. The only one I could think of asking was Solas. I could only assume he was in his rotunda, unpacking from the trip. There was a good chance he would try to get some sleep afterwards, and that meant I had to hurry before he settled down.

With a burst of speed, I hurried through the courtyard and up into the castle. I passed by Varric and Vivienne amiably and was thoroughly tempted to eavesdrop on their conversation, but I had bigger fish to fry. The plot of Varric’s next book didn’t rank very high in my list of priorities, though it was an extremely entertaining thought. I’d just have to ask him about it later.

As I skidded to a halt outside the rotunda door, I heard a pair of voices just beyond the door, their tones hushed and almost secretive. The door had been left ajar, which allowed me to peek into the room before barging in. I didn’t want to intrude on Solas’ private conversations.

Oh, how I wish I hadn’t looked into that room.

I immediately saw Solas and Lavellan together on the bench against the far wall, sitting far closer than they normally would. Solas was leaning back, his hands relaxed in his lap. His lips moved, but I couldn’t hear any words. Only a soft murmuring reached me. Lavellan’s eyes were closed, but she had the most peaceful expression on her face as she listened to the apostate talk. Then she smiled and whispered something to Solas, and I watched as a lazy smile tugged at his lips. He turned towards her and smiled lazily, and she grinned in response as she leaned towards him.

When their lips met, I had to look away. Romance was a difficult subject for me, and seeing someone close to me happy with someone else was hard. My stomach was rolling with unpleasant feelings, and I had to force myself to walk away before I made myself sick. I was feeling too many things at once.

Confusion. When had they started going out? I hadn’t even noticed anything. They hadn’t spent any extra time together, or even held hands. When had they decided to give a romance a try?

Anger. Why hadn’t Lavellan told me about it before?! Wasn’t I supposed to be her friend? I thought friends told each other about big events in their lives?! Then again, I wasn’t really one to talk. I had secrets out the wazoo. But still! A romance? With Solas? That was huge!

Jealousy. Oh, there was so much jealousy, I could practically taste it. It was sharp and bitter, and when I swallowed it felt like I was swallowing a pinecone. I could remember my own romance clear as day. Every wonderful and painful detail came rushing back to me in a cascade of memories. I barely had enough time to hide in one of the basement halls before the memories dragged me down into the dark.

* * *

It was during the first year of high school when I’d met Zachary, three weeks into fall semester. The leaves outside were changing colors, bathing the world in vibrant reds and yellows that glowed like fire in the sun. I was spending my lunch period outside, sitting at an empty picnic table while I studied some new sheet music. The sound of a cello sonata flowed from my earbuds, matching the notes on the papers.

I was meeting one of my tutors after school, and I wasn’t in the mood to play anything. I wanted to go watch my brothers’ football game instead. Why couldn’t I cut my practice short and go catch the last half of the game? Why was my father such a hardass about practicing? It’s not like he showed up to any of my recitals. I only ever saw my mother in the audience. Sometimes with my brothers would show up if they got out of football practice early.

“...sit here?”

The voice came out of nowhere, startling me into dropping my sheet music. The loose pages dropped onto the table before Icould form a coherent thought, and I yelped as the wind began to pick up. Slamming my hands down, I trapped three of the pages against the rough wooden surface. My music was safe!

I didn’t realize I was missing a page until it floated down into my view, a hand gripping the top edge. I looked up to see another student staring down at me from across the table. His skin was dark and fairly clear of acne, and his black hair was buzzed into a short fuzz. Eyes the color of dark amber watched me, and I felt a rush of blood to my cheeks.

I recognized him. His name was Zachary Madan. He was in my math class. He sat two seats behind me and had nearly perfect scores on every test. I’d asked him for notes twice before. His handwriting was so neat, it made mine look like chicken scratch.

After popping my earbuds out, I took the offered sheet and said, “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. What did you say?”

“I asked if I could sit here?” Zachary said. “Y’know, to eat lunch?”

“Oh!” I fumbled with my sheet music for a minute, trying to get them in order, before giving up and shoving the whole mess into my backpack. “Sure! I didn’t mean to take up the whole table. I’ll let you and your friends have it.”

“No friends. Just me,” he said with a shrug. He glanced at me before mumbling, “You can stay, if you want. I mean, I’m just gonna eat. I didn’t mean to startle you or chase you away…”

The blush on my cheeks came back full force, turning me a vibrant shade of pink. I stopped messing with my bag and sat down. I could still hear music coming from my earbuds, but I couldn’t seem to find enough coordination to get my ipod out of my pocket. God, I felt so awkward. Did I look as dumb as I felt? Maybe there was a nearby hole I could hide in forever. I’d even take a sewer grate.

“Hey, are you okay? You look like you’re about to faint.”

Oh yeah, that was definitely an option.

“N-no, I’m fine. Just a little…-” Flustered? Nervous? Terrified? Socially inept? “-cold.”

Smooth, Maggie. Real smooth.

My answer proved to have consequences. Without even blinking, Zachary stood and pulled his sweatshirt off, leaving him in a T-shirt with a green and gold bird on the front, the symbol of my brothers' football team. I had the stifle the urge to ask about his favorite players as he held the garment out to me.

“Here. You can wear this until lunch is over, if you want.”

Stunned by the kindness, and also incapable of politely turning down his offer, I took the sweatshirt and burrowed into it. It was warm, and the fabric was worn soft from use. It smelled like incense and something spicy that I couldn’t quite place. I found myself feeling calmer than usual, and I couldn’t stop myself from giving Zachary a smile and a quiet thank you.

I think, in a sad sort of way, that moment was the beginning of the end.

* * *

I opened my eyes to find myself in near darkness. The torches in the hall I’d hidden in were close to burning out, signalling that someone hadn’t been by to relight them in some time. It had to be close to nightfall then. How long had I been out? My head felt as if someone had pulled it apart piece by piece and rearranged it. I felt stupidly awkward, just like in my memory.

A growl bubbled up unbidden from my throat, filling the hall with a low rumble. My memories kept coming back to me, no matter how hard I tried to force them away. Why couldn’t I just lock them away and throw away the key? I didn’t want to think about what I’d lost, what I’d been forced to give up. It was like a dagger in my heart every time I remembered something. Even the happy moments were tinged with sorrow. I wanted to forget about it all.

“Forgetting won’t help.”

A string of profanities shot through my mind as I caught sight of Cole, who was walking towards me through the darkness. He was like a ghost, haunting the halls of an abandoned castle. It was spooky to think about, yet I felt nothing around him. He was like a blank slate of emotion compared to everyone else. Once again, I noticed his lack of smell. The blankness unnerved me, and I shuffled in place as I looked for a way around him.

He stopped a few feet away from me, plucked one of the torches from its sconce, and turned back towards me.

“If you want to leave, I won’t stop you.” He gestured towards the open hall, pale fingers practically glowing in the shadows. “But I just want to help. If there is no one around, will you let me?”

I was sorely tempted to take the running option. If I ran, I wouldn’t have to deal with him drudging up painful memories or listening to truths I didn’t want to hear. I wanted to keep running until I could finally outrun my past. Yet, I knew deep down that outrunning memories was impossible. I’d just end up hurting myself, or hurting someone I cared about. Like Lavellan. I’d been so caught up in my memories and my sadness that I’d snapped at her, and our friendship had become painfully strained.

With a sigh, I sat down and opened my mouth, breathing out a thin tongue of fire. Cole passed the torch through the light until the fire caught, then placed it back in its sconce.

_So tell me, Cole. What good is remembering? I asked. Why should I let my past hurt me like this? Why shouldn’t I keep trying to forget?_

“Sometimes forgetting helps. When the hurts are small, they are easily forgotten. But your hurt is large. Too big to forget. Resentment, rage, roaring to life at the smallest reminder. You force them back, but they just come back stronger.”

I wanted to protest, to say I would be happier if I forgot, but he paused then, his gaze settling on the floor at his feet. “Fingers trembling as he holds the phone, body cold from fear, too scared to speak. Words from the father linger in his mind. Contact is forbidden. You’ll never see it. Speak of this and your life is over.”

_What? What are you talking about, Cole?_

“I can hear him too. Your hurt touches his.”

_Him?_

“Zach.”

For a moment, I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel the stone beneath my feet. All I could do was imagine Zach, barely eighteen years old, receiving a threatening phone call from my father. He would have been too scared to talk, much less protest my family’s wishes. The Ayers family had too many connections to keep track of, and we had the influence the less fortunate would dream of. To try and stand against the head of that family would be insanity.

“You shouldn’t blame that boy for what happened,” Cole added. “It wasn’t his fault. It was out of fear that he left.”

I snarled and bared my teeth. _That makes no sense! He left before my father knew anything! He didn’t…_

Oh god.

My father had known.

Without any warning, my knees gave out and I landed hard on my stomach. My mind was a beehive of thoughts buzzing so loudly it became a dull roar in my ears.

My father had known. He’d figured out my secret before I’d told him. What had given me away? What had I done to make him suspicious?

And in an instant, all my rage towards Zach disappeared, replaced with despair. Zach hadn’t been scared of parenthood. He’d been scared of my father. He’d left me out of fear.

“He did love you,” Cole whispered. “He just…wasn’t ready for a child.”

The roaring faded slowly from my ears, and I was left with a dull ache in my heart. I felt a mixture of relief and sorrow, as if I’d dropped a weight I’d gotten used to carrying. Perhaps Cole was right about not forgetting things. If I dealt with them, little by little, maybe I could find a new life. One where I learned to live with my past.

“It’s good. The hurt is still there, but it’s smaller now. Less angry.”

He was right. I certainly felt less angry. Somehow, he had made me feel better. I didn’t understand it, but it was a welcome change. I didn’t even mind that he knew more about me.

“I won’t tell. Promise.”

_Thank you, Cole._

When my legs regained some of their function I stood up and sighed, wishing for a warm fire to sleep beside. I’d had enough of this emotional rollercoaster. It was time to relax and sleep.

“What’s a roller coaster?”

I snorted Cole’s question, somehow finding a little humor in the situation. I pictured the giant loops and spirals of the amusement park attraction in my mind, hoping to give Cole some kind of answer. If I closed my eyes for long enough, I could practically see myself riding the machine, screaming as I plummeted down each drop.

“Stomach falling up into my throat, screaming, soaring with each turn. It looks scary at first, but once is never enough.” Cole sniffled and adjusted his hat, pale eyes closed. “Is this what Earth is? It seems so strange… When you think about it, it’s not like dirt or stone. It’s a place, or a lot of places. Where is it?”

 _It’s not a place in Thedas,_ I told him. _I’m pretty sure it’s not in this world at all. But it’s...it’s like the Fade, I guess._

“Is it full of spirits too?”

_No, not like that. It’s more like another world that you can’t normally reach. Or maybe it’s farther away than that. I don’t really know where it is._

“Can you tell me about it? Or maybe...about you?”

I side-eyed him for a solid minute. No, I’d already told him enough. More than enough.

 _Maybe another time,_ I replied. _I’d rather not talk about that stuff. At least...not yet._

“That’s okay,” he whispered. “But...can I say something?”

I waited a beat before nodding.

“I think that you should talk. To Lavellan, I mean,” he blurted out. “You both are sad because of what was said Crestwood, and you are hurting because you cannot talk to each other. If you just sit down together, you could be happy again.”

I hated to admit it, but Cole was right again. I’d snapped at Lavellan without giving much thought to her own state of mind. She had been wound up so tightly after seeing the village in such a bad state, but I’d been too distracted by all the fighting to notice. If I’d realized just how stressed she had been, then I wouldn’t have put up such a fuss over the cavern walkway.

Andraste’s holy knickers, I was a terrible friend.

Will she talk to me? I asked the spirit boy. What if she doesn’t want to see me? She must be so mad at me…

“She’s in her room,” he replied. “Waiting for you.”

I turned towards him, ready to ask even more questions, only to find he was no longer in the room. I couldn’t help the huff that escaped me. He was always doing that. Couldn’t he at least give someone some warning before he just up and disappeared? Gosh.

Yet with him gone, there was nothing to distract me from my decision. Would I go talk to Lavellan, hoping that she would accept my apology and the we would remain friends? Or would I continue to avoid my problems and deny anything was wrong?

Shit.

* * *

When I emerged from the bowels of Skyhold, the sun was just past setting and the halls had cleared of civilians. Only those who slept in the castle remained, such as those in the inner circle and the servants who kept the place clean. Even with the front doors closed, the halls were chilly enough that it made you crave a seat by a fireplace. I, however, would not be finding a fireplace for myself just yet.

Thanks to that little bit of encouragement from Cole, I’d decided to find Lavellan and apologize to her. I had behaved badly after Crestwood, and she didn’t deserve that kind of treatment. She was under enough stress as it was, and I refused to be a source of it.

And yet, when I found myself standing in front of her bedroom door, I couldn’t help but hesitate. Was she really waiting like Cole had said? Would she really forgive me so easily? Or would she reject me and send me away? I didn’t want to get hurt, and I didn’t want to hurt her, too…

I shook my head, dislodging those thoughts from my mind. No, she wasn’t like that. She was kind and caring, and she just wanted to do what was best for everyone. And stress was to blame here. Had she been in a better state of mind, she wouldn’t have gotten mad, and I wouldn’t have snapped in response.

Mustering my courage, I grabbed the handle with my teeth and pulled until the door swung open. I slipped through without it closing on my tail - thank goodness for small miracles - and began climbing the stairs. A soft rustling reached my ears, along with a deep sigh and the tap of fingers on wood. Lavellan was going through paperwork. I probably shouldn’t-

“Is someone there?”

-disturb her.

Too late for that, I guess.

Cooing quietly, I poked my head up over the top of the stairs.

Lavellan’s room was sparsely furnished at the moment. The walls were bare of the tapestries decorating the castle halls, but the bookcases were overflowing with books and papers. The rug on the floor was plush under my feet, but caught on my claws as I walked across it. A large oak desk sat in front of the bookshelves, simple and undecorated. Its surface was littered with paper, and a nearly-empty inkwell sat precariously on one black-spattered corner.

And behind the mess sat Lavellan, looking both tired and anxious. As she placed her papers and quill aside, I could see her fingers trembling. Guilt struck me hard in the belly, and I whimpered as she stood and walked around the desk.

“Ah, Herah. I was...hoping I could talk to you.”

When I nodded, she let out another sigh and sat on the side of her bed, uncaring as ink from her writing hand smudged the soft red fabric. When she spoke again, her voice wavered, as if she were trying to keep herself from crying.

“I wanted to say that I’m sorry I was so cross with you,” she said. Her head was bowed, green eyes downcast. “I hope you can forgive me for acting the way I did. I did not mean to speak to you in such-”

I raised my voice sharply, startling her out of her apology. I locked eyes with her, then lowered my head until my nose touched the floor. I couldn’t speak, so it was the best apology I could do without spelling out “I’m sorry” on a sheet of paper.

Thankfully, she seemed to understand me just find.

“Herah, no, you have nothing to be sorry for. It was my fault, I took my anger out on you.” Her eyes were misty now, and she started rubbing them with her sleeves before the tears could fall. “Becoming the leader of the Inquisition… It happened so fast. I have all these new duties to take care of and I hardly feel like I’m qualified at all to lead a hunting party, let alone an army! It’s been two weeks, and I still think Cassandra or Leliana would be a better fit for the position!”

She was sobbing by now, eyes wet with tears, and I felt an odd combination of guilt and protectiveness fill my chest. I did the first thing that came to mind; I sat up on my back legs and nuzzled her cheek. Her tears were warm on my nose, and I gave the trails a lick before purring lightly. Lavellan continued to cry as she circled her arms around my neck in a hug.

“Is this your forgiveness?” she sniffled. “Am I forgiven for being such a terrible friend to you?”

In my opinion, there was no need for my forgiveness. Only hers mattered. Still, I couldn’t quite say that, so I increased the purring to an almost deafening level and swung my tail back and forth. That got a laugh out of the elf, so I counted that as a win.

As the last of the sunlight disappeared from the world, Lavellan got up only once to close the drapes and extinguish the candles in the room. Then she changed into a loose cotton shift and climbed into bed, ready to call it a night. I moved to leave the room, looking forward to a snooze in front of the foyer’s fireplace, when she called out quietly to me.

“Will you stay with me, Herah? Like you did after Haven?”

My heart lurched suddenly, as if it were being squeezed in a vice. She remembered that? But she had been unconscious, hadn’t she?

No, it didn’t matter if she remembered or not. She had asked for me to stay, and there was no way I could deny her. So I climbed up onto her bed and settled by her side, mindful of my claws. She turned towards me and rested her forehead against my shoulder, her hand seeking the hourglass mark on my chest.

“No more fighting, yes?” she mumbled. “I can handle anything the world may throw at us, so long as you remain by my side. Ma falon.”

In that moment, I wished I could have asked her what that strange phrase meant, yet she said it in such a way that left me feeling warm and fuzzy. I didn’t mind not knowing exactly what it translated to. As I rested my head on the pillows, I could only think about finally getting a decent night’s sleep after a week of lonely nights. Without that guilt weighing me down, I drifted off the moment my eyes closed.

For the first night in a long time, I slept without dreaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ma falon: my friend


	26. Comforting Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy moly, this chapter is so damn late, I feel awful. I'm so sorry you guys had to wait so long for this. I promise, the next chapter will be up on time next Sunday. For now, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

In the days following my heart-to-heart with Cole, I found myself feeling calmer and happier than ever before. I spent my time no longer wandering Skyhold in a haze of sadness. Instead, I found fun things to do with the people who lived alongside me. I quickly fell into something that vaguely resembled a routine.

Mornings began in Lavellan’s room, where I would wake up at sunrise next to the very cuddly woman. We would spend a little time just laying there in bed, enjoying each other’s company before the servants arrived with the day’s messages. That always got us out of bed.

When Lavellan would head down to the War Room to meet with the advisors, I’d go out with the day’s first hunting party. I found that scaring a herd of wild goats into a volley of arrows was much easier than chasing each individual goat. The fennec foxes were too small to hunt, so I left them alone for the hunters to collect. The only beast I had to go one-on-one with was a bear. The hunters were squishy and prone to broken bones, whereas I was built like a goddamn tank and had teeth and claws like daggers. It was an easy decision to let me take on the bears.

Once enough meat was collected to replenish the fortress’ stores, I was given the day to do whatever I wanted. Reading had regained its luster, and I spent a few hours every day in a quiet corner of the library with a stack of books and an open window. Going out and exploring the world of Thedas was fun and all, but I truly enjoyed finding a good book. Dorian suggested several books that were “decently written and minimally biased”. Apparently he had a mental list of all the atrocious books in the library, and was attempting to persuade Josephine into finding better ones.

If I didn’t feel like reading, I would spend a fair amount of time in the garden. It was technically winter in Thedas, and yet the courtyards of Skyhold were locked in a never-ending spring. Even if snow fell on the battlements, it never touched the ground for long before melting. And with the Hinterlands under Inquisition control, we were able to gather enough supplies to get a large herb garden started. There were only small sprouts so far, but it was still a lovely addition to the castle. I looked forward to seeing it in full bloom one day.

Right before dinner was when the sparring began. Recruits and officers alike stepped into the ring of dirt in the courtyard, practice swords drawn and a glint in their eyes. It was the time when the day’s stress was worked off until nothing was left but exhaustion and contentment. Friendly rivalries were tested, and arguments were solved in the ring. If you had a problem with someone, you took it out in combat. Cullen wasn’t too fond of the idea since it ran the risk of injuring needed soldiers, but he had allowed the bouts to continue.

Another activity I found myself enjoying was delivering various things to the people of Skyhold. I wasn’t given important things like Inquisition missives, but if someone received a letter from home I would get to deliver it. Josie even gave me a pouch to carry things in. It was cute and simple; a small drawstring purse that had my name embroidered on the side in silver thread. The outside was ram leather and the lining was a soft ring velvet, and the cord was long enough to loop around my neck without risking the bag dragging on the ground. I adored it to bits, and picked up the habit of wearing it even when I wasn’t making deliveries. It was good for storing cute little trinkets and shiny things.

Yes, things were definitely looking up for me. Life at Skyhold was turning out to be sort of fun.

* * *

Things took a hectic turn around the 4th of Haring, or the equivalent of December. I was spending the afternoon with the Chargers, watching Krem go through a few drills with The Iron Bull. It was fascinating to watch them practice. There was a fluidity to the way they moved, but their steps and slashes were precise and solid.

Watching Krem go toe to toe with Bull, I couldn’t help but respect him. Not many could hold their own against Bull and come out mostly unscathed, and Krem was one of the few who could claim such a boast. He was careful in his movements, much like Cassandra and Cullen, but he had the sort of cocky attitude Bull constantly gave off. He put it to good use, too. There was rarely a fight he lost, and when he did, he took it as a lesson. It was an admirable attitude I could only wish could rub off on the rest of the troops.

When I looked to my right, I could see Dalish and Skinner and Rocky sitting in the shade of the ramparts, talking quietly to each other. Dalish was the friendlier of the elves, and was absolutely not a mage. When she wasn’t in the tavern drinking with the others, she could be found in the courtyard near the stables, fletching arrows for anyone with an empty quiver. Her hands were deft and precise with each cut, turning even the gnarliest stick into a perfect arrow. The best part was that she hummed while she worked. It wasn’t the prettiest song in the world, but it was as gentle as a lullaby. It was relaxing to watch her.

Skinner was a lot more intimidating than Dalish was, but she seemed to respect me and kept a reasonable amount of distance from me when she could. Bull had told me stories about how they had taken down a dragon or two in the past, and I understood her wariness. If she ever fully trusted me, I knew I would have a deadly ally watching my back.

Rocky was, in short, a whiz with bombs. The dwarf could build a small grenade in less than five minutes with the right materials, and if he didn’t have what he needed, he’d MacGyver the shit out of what he had on-hand. It was incredible! My favorites were the smoke bombs. He added herbs to get various effects as well. As it turned out, burning ghoul’s beard and blood lotus together could make you dizzy for up to five minutes, and powdered rashvine nettle made your eyes burn like you’d been hit by an entire can of mace. Experimenting with him often went from fun to painful. I looked forward to a day when I could find a pair of goggles for myself, or at least some kind of shield to keep the haze out of my eyes. Perhaps Dorian had a spell I could try.

Leaning against the wall next to the training dummies were Stitches and Grim, silently watching Krem and Bull trade blows. Stitches was a nice guy, if a little formal. He had a stiff voice, a soldier’s voice, and wielded a sword almost as well as Krem. I’d been surprised to find out he was the company healer. He didn’t seem like the type to play nurse, but who was I to judge? And he was damn good healer too. Whenever one of Rocky’s grenades blew up in my face, Stitches was by my side, applying one of his salves or checking me for lingering damage. He was a sweet man, and very dedicated to his work. If only he could get Bull to stop eating poultices. How the qunari could stomach one of those was beyond me.

Grim wasn’t a man of many words. The most I ever got out of him was a grunt or two, and never anything more than that. Still, he was decent with a blade, and it was fun to watch him spar with the troops. New recruits quickly learned not to underestimate him.

I turned back towards the fight to see Krem land a particularly hard blow on Bull with his shield. The sound of wood cracking echoed through the courtyard like a thunderclap, drawing the attention of any and all around us. Sera, looking extremely miffed, stuck her head out of her bedroom window and glared.

“Oi! Go break shite somewhere else, yeah?”

“This is where we train, Sera,” Bull called up to her, a smile on his face. “If you don’t like it, you could always keep your windows closed.”

“I’m not closing my windows just so you arseholes can bump uglies in public!”

“Hey now, we’re not ugly!” Krem said with a laugh.

Bull snorted, then shrugged. “We are assholes, though.”

I let out a happy bark, earning grins from the boys and a groan from Sera.

“Don’t agree with ‘em, you stupid lizard! They’ll never leave!”

If I had a voice, I would’ve told her there was no point in complaining. If The Chargers were making a racket with their drills, you were better off finding a new place to hang out. You could go back once they were done. When you complained to Bull about his habits, he’d talk you in circles. He never really seemed sorry for disturbing someone, unless it was an important conversation.

“Ser The Iron Bull?”

Surprised by the new voice, we all turned to look at the soldier who suddenly approached us. It was one of Cullen’s scouts, slightly out of breath and looking a little harried. He bowed stiffly at the waist and squared his shoulders, as if about to deliver a huge speech.

“The Inquisitor requests your presence in the War Room immediately, ser.”

“Sounds like you’re in trouble, Chief,” Krem chuckled, giving Bull a smug grin. “Do you think it’s because of the brawl in the tavern last week, or breaking the door to the kitchens?”

I didn’t get the chance to voice my amusement. Before Krem could finish his laugh, Bull hooked his foot behind one of his lieutenant's knees and yanked it forward. Krem let out a yelp as his knee buckled and he fell to the ground, a cloud of dust kicking up when his ass met the dirt.

“Neither,” Bull said with a smirk. He offered Krem a hand up, which the man accepted readily. “Keep drilling while I’m gone, Lieutenant. We’ll be heading out soon, and I want you and the others at your best.”

Krem snorted as he dusted himself off. “Sure, Chief. I’ll knock ‘em around a bit until you get back.”

Bull clapped Krem on the shoulder, then followed the scout to the castle at a leisurely pace. When he was out of sight, Krem let out a huge sigh and walked over to me, his armor clinking as he leaned against the fence.

“Andraste’s tits, he likes to play dirty when your guard is down. Bastard.”

I snorted, completely understanding what he was talking about. In the last week alone, I’d watched Bull take down at least a dozen recruits in sparring matches. He liked lulling them into a false sense of security. When they got smug about being smaller and “quicker”, he had them beaten. It was both hilarious and satisfying to watch him knock the smirks off their faces.

“So. Herah.”

Leaving the memory of Bull, I turned to Krem and noticed the odd smile on his face. I cocked my head to the side and narrowed my eyes, suddenly wary of the man’s tone. He grinned and gave me a gentle scratch between the horns.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. You’ve got that same squinty look as Skinner when she’s lost a bet.”

I rolled my eyes, but Krem just laughed and rolled his right back. “You’ve been hanging out with us too much lately. Don’t get me wrong, you’re great company. You talk more than Grim does. But what do you like about us so much? There’s got to be a reason why you ”

I pondered his words for a moment, a claw hovering just above the dirt. Because you’re funny. You’re sweet and kind to me. You don’t look at me like I’m scary. You laugh and joke with me like I’m a person, and...I miss feeling like one sometimes.

But that wasn’t something I could say. Not to Krem. Not to anyone. Not yet.

When I didn’t start writing right away, Krem hummed. “Let me guess… It’s Bull, isn’t it?”

Suddenly my face felt hot, hotter than any fire I could breathe. Technically Krem wasn’t wrong, but that wasn’t the whole reason either! I just really liked seeing Bull fight and kick ass! And also lift heavy things and wrestle. Sometimes I wished I was human so that maybe, if I got strong enough, I could try and take him on… or out. On a date. With lots of flirting and kissing and maybe…

OH SWEET MAKER I WAS NOT CONTINUING THAT THOUGHT.

Utterly embarrassed with myself, I let out a whiny shriek that made my brain rattle between my ears. Krem hissed and hunched his shoulders, clearly affected as well.

“Shit, Herah! Can you tone down the screaming?” In a lowered voice, he added, “I know you like Bull, but you don’t have to shout it to the Maker.”

Just to spite him, I shrieked again and stomped my feet. He just laughed and patted my head.

“No no, don’t deny it. The way you moon over him is cute. You’re like a lovesick mabari.”

What?! Me, a dog?! He was making fun of me! The nerve of him, laughing at my expense! He was enjoying my torment like… like…

Kind of like an older brother would.

No wonder I got along with him so well. Krem was just like Andy. Albeit they didn’t look alike, but their personalities were close. Both were incredibly athletic, sarcastic as fuck, and never afraid to have fun and get dirty. They were always fun to hang out with, too. If I closed my eyes, I could imagine myself back on Earth, ten years old and playing hide and seek with my brothers, giggling like a lunatic whenever they passed my hiding spot.

My embarrassment forgotten, I couldn’t help but wonder... what were they doing right then? Were they still playing football? Were they dating anyone new?

Did they miss me, or even know I was gone?

“Herah? You still in there?”

I snapped out of my thoughts with a grunt, only to realize Krem had stopped smiling. Instead, he looked vaguely concerned. When I met his gaze, he sighed and patted me on the head gently.

“Glad to have you back. Are you feeling alright? I was just joking around about Bull and all that. Didn’t mean to make you angry or anything.”

I hadn’t meant to worry him. I just had a tendency to shut down when my memories reared their sometimes-ugly heads. Letting out a low whine, I leaned into his side until he was forced to lean into me to keep from falling over. Krem seemed to get that, and gave me a good scratch under the chin.

“Just so you know,” he mumbled, “the Chief likes you. And not just because he’s got a permanent hard-on for your kind. And the other Chargers like you too. You’re not like the usual dragons we’ve faced before. You’re a lot less bitey, which is nice for a change. You’re the first dragon I’ve met that didn’t attack on sight. Wish I knew why you decided not to.”

Taking advantage of his pause, I began scribbling words in the dirt.

I was scared. The Inquisition was kind.

Krem looked at my writing and arched an eyebrow.

“Scared, was it? That’s unusual. I never thought dragons had a sense of fear, being at the top of the food chain and all.” He shrugged, making the leather in his armor creak. “Then again, you were smaller than a cat back then. I suppose the world would be scary if I were that small.”

A comfortable silence passed between us before Krem clapped his hands and hummed. “Anyway! No point in thinking about it now,” he said. He nudged me off of him and stretched his arms out, inhaling slowly until something in his back popped. He let out a happy grunt, then turned and grinned at the others. “Line up, Chargers! The Chief wants us to drill while he’s gone, so that’s what we’re going to do! Let’s go!”

A chorus of groans echoed through the courtyard as the warriors got to their feet and dusted themselves off. They looked like they wanted to keep relaxing and goofing off, but they knew better than to try it. Krem wouldn’t hesitate to kick their butts. They lined up quickly, and Krem paired them off for exercises.

As I watched them, I couldn’t help but purr with contentment. Krem’s words were a salve on my soul, washing away some of my worries until they were almost gone. Bull liked me! Even if it wasn’t in the way I wanted, he liked me, and so did several other people in Skyhold. I had good friends, friends worth fighting for. They didn’t mind that I wasn’t a perfect dragon, or that I had some bad moments. They liked me as I was.

Maybe I’d be able to tell them someday. About my past, my being human once. Maybe, if I was lucky, they would accept me then as well.

But that was a thought for another time.

* * *

As much as I loved the Chargers, I couldn’t help but get a little bored. No one was falling over or getting their ass handed to them, so my attention drifted elsewhere. The courtyard wasn’t too busy today. It was almost sundown, so most of the important deliveries had been completed already and the small market by the stables was closed for the day. There wasn’t much left to do other than wait for dinner and get ready for bed.

Actually, there was still one thing left to do.

I still had to visit Dagna.

Leaving the Chargers to their evening workouts, I trotted up the stone steps and into the castle, dodging people as I went. Dagna was one of my favorite dwarves in Skyhold. Varric was funny, Scout Harding was cute, and Rocky was entertaining when he was building experimental bombs. But Dagna was a little ball of sunshine who liked making sharp things. Since her arrival a week back, I’d started visiting her every so often in the hope that I could help her out in some way. Harritt had been glad to have a fire blazing on command, and as it turned out Dagna liked it as well.

Emerging in the bowels of the fortress, my nose was assaulted by the smell of molten metal and burning fabric. Either someone lit their apron on fire again, or Dagna was speed-tanning animal hides again. And, judging from the distinct lack of burning fur in the air, I could assume it was the former.

“Herah!” I heard Dagna call out. “I’m so glad you’re here! Would you please help me heat this up again?”

I hopped down into the lower half of the room, only to find Harritt and Dagna standing around the forge. A pair of bellows lay haphazardly on the stone floor, their cloth chambers ripped open and deflated. Had they...been popped? Why were Dagna and Harritt working the bellows so hard? Were they making something important?

“Herah!!”

Snapping out of my thoughts, I hurried towards the forge. The embers of the fire were already dying, glowing a faint orange in the darkness. As gently as possible, I coaxed them back to life with a wisp of fire, which I gradually increased in size until the remaining fuel caught fire. Within moments, the forge was back at full power, blazing hot enough to sear someone’s eyebrows off. Dagna let out a delighted shout, grinning from ear to ear, and clapped me on the back.

“Thanks for the help, Herah! I have to admit, it’s nice having a dragon around to light the forge again. We’d be here all night without you!” Dagna laughed and patted me on the back again. From across the room, I heard Harritt grunt his thanks and mumble something about “too much work”.

Dagna had only been with us a couple weeks, but she had made herself right at home. She was always cheerful, and always asking questions that she would usually answer herself. If she had an issue with her smithing, she’d talk her way through it until something made sense. She was smart, charming, and an inspiration to watch. She wielded a hammer and tongs like a master, yet she was always humble, always saying there was still a lot for her to learn.

She reminded me of me when I was younger, back when learning to play the cello had been a joy. When Dagna smiled or cheered, I felt like I was looking at myself, or at least the way I’d been before high school. The only reason I’d picked up a cello after that was because my aunt had insisted on hearing me play after I moved in with her. It was because of her that I’d fallen in love with music again.

“So what brings you down to the warforge?” Dagna asked as she retrieved a third set of bellows from behind her workstation. She shoved the nozzle into the embers and gave the device a press, sending the flames high for a brief second. “Are you looking for something to do? Or maybe you’re here to check on that project of yours?”

At the mention of my little endeavor, I chattered and nodded. Once I’d found out what a genius the cute dwarf was with weapon-smithing, I’d decided to try and design a few weapons myself. Not that I could use them. I just wanted to try and make some nice things for my friends. A stave for Lavellan was my first creation.

My enthusiasm brought a smile to Dagna’s face, so she asked Harritt to take over at the forge and then led me to one of her work tables. The stave was laid out in four parts: the grip, the blade, the rune, and the decorations for the top. The grip was three and a half feet of polished obsidian, etched with a scale-like patterned and wrapped on one end with a thick layer of bear hide. The blue vitriol blade was shaped like talon and sported a mean-looking serrated edge for maximum damage. The rune was one of cleansing, which I thought was like a nod towards Lavellan’s kind and caring nature. And if it was extremely effective against Red Templars, I wasn’t going to say no to it. The decorations consisted of several strings of wooden beads, carved into tiny leaves and flowers that clinked like a wind chime. I’d had to ask Blackwall for help with those, and he’d been willing to help me out in exchange for a favor in the future.

“So? Is everything up to your standards?” Dagna chirped, blue eyes sparkling with excitement.

From the way things looked to me, the pieces were ready for assembly. I has happy to be almost finished, but I was nervous as well. Would Lavellan like it when I gave it to her? Would it hold up in battle, or would it fall apart like a cheap toy? I didn’t doubt Dagna’s skills, but there was only so much one could do to make a weapon both effective and aesthetically pleasing. Maybe I should have asked Vivienne for advice…

“If you’re worried, don’t be!” the girl whispered, giggling when I looked at her with huge eyes. “I knew it! Trust me, this stave is going to be perfect. It’ll work, and she’ll love it. Not just because it’s pretty, but because it’s from you!”

Dagna’s words helped me calm down immensely, like a soothing balm on a burn. Weapons broke all the time, and we had spares just in case that happened. Not to mention it was Lavellan I was giving it to. She was my closest friend, and she always liked what I gave her. She would love the stave too.

I gave Dagna the go-ahead to put the weapon together, and she clapped her hands and got to work. “It won’t be ready for your trip tomorrow, but I can have it ready for you when you return.”

I whined loudly and sat down on the floor, singing my woes in a warbling voice. Ugh, I didn’t want to go to the Emerald Graves. Leliana had reports of red templars in the area, and I had to admit that I wasn’t very good at fighting them. Since I used teeth and claws as a weapon, I was at an extreme disadvantage against their armor and contagious red lyrium-addled bodies.

Lavellan had insisted I would like it there - ignoring the templars, of course - but I was severely skeptical. Why would an elven cemetery be cool? It would just be a bunch of dusty old headstones. Graves were sad, not cool. Unless they were those big mausoleums that had a dozen people inside them. Those looked a little cool, and they usually had pretty angel statues set up around them. I couldn’t, however, see the ancient elves building those for their dead.

As I watched Dagna work her smithing magic, the evening dwindled on around us until the sun disappeared below the horizon. Soon the dinner bell rang throughout the fortress, calling everyone upstairs to the mess hall. And while I ate my charred goat leg and listened to whatever story was being told at the nearest table, I couldn’t help but wonder what the elves considered graves. And why were the templars hanging out in an ancient cemetery?


	27. A Hazardous Walk in the Park

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a day late, but here's this week's update! And it's action-packed, too! I hope you guys like trees. :P

“Herah, slow down! Don’t run so far ahead of us!”

I could hear Lavellan calling out behind me, a mix of amusement and worry in her voice. I should have stopped and stayed with the group. I should have leashed my desires.

And yet, I couldn’t stop running. This place, this forest… It felt amazing! Despite being a cemetery, the place was full of life.

We had arrived in the Emerald Graves just a few hours prior, and I had spent the entire time pacing the camp, waiting for the go-ahead to leave and start exploring. With the reports of heavily-armed bandits, Venatori smugglers, and red templars appearing in the area, we had to be careful not to walk into an ambush. And for that reason, Lavellan had brought along Sera and Cassandra, two sets of the keenest eyes in Skyhold. Solas was along for magical backup, since he was the resident expert on all things ancient and elven. Vivienne had stuck her nose up at the idea of hiking through a forest, and Dorian was helping Josie plan the outfits for Halamshiral. Which was fine by me. I liked the people in our current party and enjoyed their banter, even when it got a little heated. I missed The Iron Bull, but I knew I’d see him again soon. At Lavellan’s request, he and the Chargers would be guarding the Haven memorial construction crew. I knew he’d be okay.

As I bounded through some nearby bushes, I couldn’t help feeling like I was flying. Nothing could beat the simple act of running at full speed through the woods, dodging roots and animals alike. The trees were a blur as I shot past them, and the breeze turned fierce enough to sting and make my eyes water. My muscles burned with every leap, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. It was too much fun!

However, I couldn’t run forever, no matter how much I wanted to. Eventually I had to turn around and head back to the road, where I found Lavellan and the others chatting with the Inquisition scouts stationed in the area.

According to their reports, the Red Templars had gained a foothold in the forest, despite it being only a four day journey from Skyhold. Apparently they had begun harvesting and transporting red lyrium, though the scouts had no idea where they were planning on taking it. They had simply started gathering it. They had carts of it somewhere to the north, guarded by the red lyrium behemoths we had fought in Haven. While the idea of attacking one of those creatures made my scales crawl, I knew we would have to face them eventually. I couldn’t help but worry about facing it in close combat. Would the lyrium taint me if I was wounded by it? How much contact was necessary before I became infected?

With no Cole to voice my concerns for me, I set the subject aside and began wandering the area around the road. There was so much I had yet to explore. I didn’t want to waste time staying in one place for too long.

So I took off into the woods before anyone could stop me.

The wildlife in the Graves was a mix of cute and terrifying. The nugs were my favorite to watch. They were so cute, with their hairless skin and pudgy bodies! I especially liked their ears. They reminded me of a rabbit’s ears, all twitchy and pink on the inside. And the squeaking! Oh, they were just adorable when they started squeaking at each other. More than anything, I wanted to join them in their squeaky conversations. Unfortunately, whenever they got within a certain distance of me, they would freak out and disappear into the bushes. It bummed me out, but that was the way the world worked. Predators didn’t play with their prey, even if they weren’t truly a predator at heart.

The scary part of the wildlife came in the form of a giant. Those assholes were probably between fifteen and twenty feet tall, and looked like the result of someone putting a human, a monkey, and an elephant in a biological blender set on “Fucked Up”. They looked like Bigfoot with mange. Of the few we’d seen on the road, most were missing toes or had various weapons sprouting from their calves and ankles like vicious hairs. They were mean as hell, too. When our party had passed by one earlier that day, it’d start growling and throwing rocks at us. We’d kept our distance.

Despite the crazy creatures inhabiting it, the forest was truly a beautiful place. It reminded me of Spruce Creek in a way, though there were plenty of differences. The trees of the Emerald Graves were tall and leafy, with thick green canopies that filtered enough light to make the whole place glow. The forest of Spruce Creek had been dark and filled with pine trees and stocky, thin trees covered with spiny needles that crunched underfoot. The air was different too. Where the Emerald Graves had a fresh, watery smell, Spruce Creek had reeked of pine sap and moss. If you compared the two places side-by-side, there was no way you could mistake one for the other.

And yet, the Graves still reminded me of my old home. It wasn’t the trees or the wildlife, or even the air. It was in the overwhelming sense of calm that seemed to seep from everything. When I eventually stopped in a clearing, listening to the birds above singing as the sunlight warming my scales, I felt nothing but peace. None of my problems mattered at that moment. I was neither human nor dragon. My home wasn’t Earth or Thedas. I wasn’t Maggie or Herah. I was simply an existence at peace with itself. For a while, it felt like time couldn’t touch me.

However, that wasn’t the case for long. When I opened my eyes again, I realized the sun had moved a great deal, and that time had indeed passed during my peaceful moment. I must’ve dozed off or something to lose track of so much time.

Gathering my thoughts, I followed what I thought was the path I’d taken from the road. I saw a patch of rashvine hanging from the raised roots of a tree I’d passed by earlier, along with several rocks that had a sort of familiar shape to them.

When several minutes passed by without any sign of the road, I began to panic. I would have run into it by now, or at least some kind of trail. Had I passed by that tree before, or had I just imagined it? Shit, I’d never seen that patch of elfroot before. No, the path I was on definitely wasn’t right.

I had to accept the obvious.

I was lost.

* * *

For what felt like hours, I wandered through the forest, looking for any kind of road or sign, or even a person who could point me in the direction of an Inquisition camp. Why did the forest have to be so big?! It was like wandering through a national park reserve without any kind of trail to follow. It was maddening, and my panic levels were rising with every passing tree.

Would I ever find my way out of here? Would I get lucky and find someone nice? Or would I be stuck in the woods forever, like a wandering spirit? Was Lavellan looking for me?

I shook my head roughly and willed some steel into my spine. Of course my friends were looking for me. It had only been a few hours, right? If they weren’t looking now, they’d start soon.

What if they thought I was out hunting, and that I would rejoin them once I was done?

As if on cue, my stomach let out an angry gurgle. It sounded way too much like a bear. Maker’s breath, was I hungry already? I’d had a goat for breakfast. Was it time for lunch? Or maybe I’d slept through lunch and it was time for dinner now? I grimaced, but kept an eye out for any kind of animal. If I had a choice, I’d leave the nugs alone. They were too cute to eat.

Luck turned out to be on my side. A few minutes after my stomach made itself known, there was a rustling in the bushes nearby, along with the smell of fresh blood. I immediately dropped into a crouch, claws digging into the soft earth as the noise increased in volume. Was it a deer, or one of those halla Lavellan had told me about? Or maybe it was a ram, looking for some embrium to nibble on. Or, if I was really lucky, it would be a wild elk or a hart wandering away from its herd. Either way, it smelled wounded, which meant it would be an easy meal.

The thought of food spurred me onwards, and I pounced at the bushes, teeth bared and ready to bite.

Before my feet touched ground again, I received a mouthful of fur and an earful of startled roaring. I quickly scrambled away from my target, no longer feeling as hungry as before. My hunger was replaced by fear, which spiked when I got a good look at what I’d just tried to eat.

It was larger than two SUVs parked bumper to bumper, and reeked of dark, musty fur that hadn’t been touched by water in weeks. Had I been paying attention, I would have noticed a different smell beneath the stench of blood. If I’d chanced a peek through the bushes as well, I would have immediately noticed the large claws, massive yellow teeth, and enormous scars decorating the creature’s hide.

I’d just tackled a very large, very angry looking bear.

Luck was very much not on my side today.

For a moment, all I could do was stare at it. Its snout was dripping with blood, having just been buried in the carcass of a freshly-killed elk. Its eyes, one black as night and the other paler than a pearl, stared at me from across the dead animal. It growled lowly at me, daring me to step forward and try to claim its meal.

Like the smart beastie I was, I had no intention of doing so. The only thing I wanted was to get as far away from that bear as possible. Screw dinner. I liked the idea of living more. Was this some kind of cruel irony for not wanting to eat a nug? I didn’t want to eat a small cute creature, yet I ended up jumping on one of the biggest things in the forest.

As slowly as I possibly could, I began to back away from the bear. It watched me the whole time, as if making sure I wouldn’t suddenly launch myself forward to take its kill. Chills rocketed up and down my spine, even after I slipped through the bushes and off in the opposite direction. I’d looked into the face of death, and it had been ugly and covered in blood and gore. Smelly, too.

Still, that left me with one less direction to walk in and no food to eat. My stomach growled again, suddenly sounding more like a whine. I sighed and trekked onward, eyes peeled for any sign of food and ears open for any signs of the monster bear. There had to be something to eat in this forest! Maybe I just wasn’t looking hard enough.

* * *

Some time later, my situation took a turn for the better. I was still lost, but now I had an august ram for a meal and plenty of daylight left. From my vantage point on a rocky outcrop, I could see everything around me. A small herd of nugs ducked through the bushes not too far from me, squeaking and chirping like a flock of birds as they ran. I could see a giant in the distance, lumbering through the trees at a snail’s pace. My resting spot was next to a small stream, its depths glinting silver as various fish swam through it. Everything was peaceful.

My meal finished, I stood up and ambled down to the water’s edge. I splashed my claws and snout into the chilly water, ridding myself of blood and gore. I silently thanked the gods of Thedas for letting me find it. Nothing was worse than walking around with gunk caked on my face. If I left it alone, it’d start to itch something fierce.

With my hunger sated and nothing to do but explore until I found a person, I decided to follow the river upstream. People were always drawn to water, which meant there was a good chance an Inquisition camp would be parked close to one. If there was one on this tiny river, I had no idea, but I didn’t have too many options.

The only upside to this was if I stuck to the stream, I’d have access to fresh water and fish, if I could catch them. The downside was that both prey and predators needed water, and I still wasn’t very far from where I’d encountered the giant bear. I didn’t want to meet that monster again.

If I was lucky, I’d find a camp and have a nice place to sleep at night.

If I was unlucky, I’d spend the night alone and possibly encounter some rabid wildlife. Or red templars. Or bandits. Or demons from a rift. Or giant spiders. Or just giants.

Oh god, I was going to die. My grave was going to be in the Emerald Graves. What cruel irony.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t start panicking a bit. And by a bit, I mean I panicked a lot. Every snapping twig and rustle of bushes had me on high alert, wondering if I was about to meet friend or foe. It mostly turned out to be timid wildlife, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I had to keep my ears open for voices.

And then, out of nowhere, I heard one.

“Need more...”

I froze in place, my head swiveling towards the nearby bushes. Did I just hear that? I wasn’t sure. It was so faint. Had it come from upstream?

“Mooore. Have to be ready.”

Nope, definitely coming from the bush.

Dropping low to the ground, I crept towards the foliage until I could peek between the leaves. Nestled back against the cliff’s rocky face was a small shrine made of three thick, flat stones. Vines of prophet’s laurel wound their way around it, almost looking like some kind of flower crown. A ceramic bowl rested on top of the whole thing, filled with withered crystal grace blossoms and gems no bigger than a fingernail. Was this a human’s grave?

Suddenly, I heard the voice again. “You! Come closer. A favor for a prize, yes?”

Warily, I stepped forward until I was standing in front of the shrine. Was it a demon? Demons usually tempted people like this, right?

When the voice didn’t return again, I sniffed at the stones, inching closer until I could look into the small space. There was nothing but darkness, yet it smelled like fresh flowers. Not at all like the dirt I was expecting. It was such a nice smell, too. Light like lilacs, but gentler. It was so familiar, and yet I couldn’t put my finger on where I’d smelled it before.

A sharp wap on the snout brought me out of my thoughts, and I yelped and leapt back. There was a dull throbbing right between my nostrils, but I was otherwise unharmed. I glared at the shrine, only to see a stick waving angrily from the dark.

“Rude! Sniffing home like that. No good rotten beastie!”

I felt an odd mix of annoyance, guilt, and amusement as I watched the stick jerk about. I’d obviously upset the little creature, but I didn’t deserve to get hit with a stick! Then again, it was so funny watching whatever it was try to smack me again. I couldn’t stay mad at it. I whined and settled down before the shrine, trying to look apologetic.

Evidently my apology was accepted, since the stick retreated into the small cave and the voice spoke up again.

“Better. Ready to play fetch now, yes?”

I growled lowly, no longer amused. What was I, a dog? I wasn’t going to play fetch.

“No? Dragon doesn’t want pretty thing? Too bad! Such a pretty thing it is.”

While the prospect of “playing fetch” still grated on my nerves like steel wool, the mention of a pretty thing piqued my interest. What was it? Was it a jewel, or maybe an old elven trinket? This was an old elven forest, after all. There had to be plenty of small things other explorers had missed. And if it was some kind of artifact, would Lavellan like to have it? Or maybe Solas would want to look at it. That seemed like a worthy quest. But did I have enough time?

I glanced up at the sky and noted that the sun still had a ways to go before setting. There was no harm in trying, right?

“Dragon says yes, yes? Good!” the tiny voice chirped, sounding vaguely triumphant. “Bring hope, bring faith, bring piece of life! Hurry!”

…what?

I snorted at the shrine. What in the world was hope, faith, and piece of life?! Was I supposed to bring a Chantry sister to the shrine? Was this some sort of dark ritual? What was next, sacrificing a goat to the great lord Satan?! What had I just gotten myself into?

“Stupid dragon. Flowers! Bring flowers!”

I frowned, still not understanding. It wanted flowers? What kind, though? There were probably dozens upon dozens of flowers in the Emerald Graves, and even more in the entire realm of Thedas. Did it want any flower I could find?

There was no point in waiting around. If I wanted to get the mystery person’s “prize”, I had to start gathering flowers.

Taking my leave of the shrine, I began scouring the area for various blooms. It wasn’t too hard to find some. The forest was filled with blossoms of all kinds, ranging from harmless to medicinal to toxic. I refrained from using my mouth to pick them. Lavellan had told me about several plants that had defenses against animals. One type had a numbing agent in its thorns, one had poisonous leaves that caused hallucinations if consumed in large amounts, and one even caused paralysis if even one bloom was swallowed. I didn’t plan on becoming an easy meal for anything, so I stuck to slicing through the stems with my claws.

When I felt like I had enough of one kind, I tied each bundle together with a vine. With the flowers secured, all I had to do was knot it and hold the other end of the vine in my mouth. It was a fabulous, poison-free plan that left my claws free.

Eventually, my search led me to a small waterfall a little ways upstream. It was only about twenty feet tall, but it was still very soothing. As I picked the crystal grace there, I felt an odd, prickly sensation in the back of my mind. The sound of the falls, the smell of cold water; it was somehow familiar. I’d seen waterfalls in Thedas before. There’d been one in the Hinterlands, the frozen one at Haven, the big one under Skyhold’s bridge. There were plenty to remember.

And yet, the prickly sensation only grew as I tried to sort through my memories. Was there one I was forgetting? Where had it been?

Then it hit me like a bolt of lightning.

Earth. There had been one on Earth, somewhere around Aunt Ellen’s cabin. It’d been a bit bigger than the one I was in front of now. She’d brought me to it once, hadn’t she? How else could I remember it? And yet, I couldn’t place the memory. It felt just out of my grasp. If I just reached for it a little more...

Suddenly, a sharp pain lanced through my skull, causing my knees to buckle under me. I fell into the shallow water, whimpering as a crystal grace blossom I’d collected slipped from my claws and was pulled downstream. I wanted to chase after it, but I couldn’t get my feet to work under me. Had I eaten something poisonous? No, I hadn’t eaten anything I’d picked. Had something gotten into an open cut?

I whined pitifully as the edges of my vision blurred and wobbled. All I could do now was hope that whatever was happening to me would wear off soon. Very soon.

* * *

When I opened my eyes, the world was still very much wobbling. The world was a blur of nature outside the truck window, complete with three of everything spinning in slow, nauseating circles. I felt like my body was on ice, as if the blood in my veins had frozen solid. My head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, clogging my ears until I could barely hear the truck engine.

Taking mental baby steps, I began to focus on the world around me. I was sitting in the passenger seat of a truck, my favorite quilt wrapped around me like a cocoon. The familiar shades of green and blue brought a smile to my face, though it was a small one. The air smelled of pine sap and Aunt Ellen’s sandalwood potpourri.

I heard a noise next to me, and turned slowly to see my aunt in the driver’s seat. She was dressed in her gardening clothes, but her hair hung limp and grey around her shoulders. For some reason, she looked older than usual. The wrinkles around her face were a little deeper than I remembered, and her expression was almost grim. It worried me, and I wished that I could move enough to reach for her hand, just to try and cheer her up.

I must have made a sound, because she glanced at me. The grim look disappeared, replaced with the same soft half-smile I was used to. She removed a hand from the steering wheel and softly pressed it to my cheek, and I sighed and leaned into it. I felt so soothed, so calm from just a touch. Without speaking a word, she knew how to make me feel better. It was like magic.

“We’re almost there, dearie. Just a few more minutes, and you’ll feel right as rain again.”

Her hand was gone before I could protest, returning to the steering wheel. My comfort diminished, but didn’t disappear entirely. I could wait, if that’s what she wanted.

The truck rumbled down the road at an awkward and bumpy pace. Or at least, it looked a bit like a road. It was a single lane stretch of dirt that wove through the trees, sometimes disappearing altogether for a few minutes before reappearing again. It was clearly unused. I watched the world go by through the dirty window, noting that I couldn’t keep track of which direction we were going in. I could barely see the sun through the trees. Were we heading north or south? What time was it? Where were we going? And why did I feel like I just went through some kind of full-body charley horse? I felt so stiff and weak…

The drive didn’t last much longer. Ellen brought the truck to a stop next to a large river. The waters were white from the frothing rapids, and I couldn’t fight the shiver that ran from my head to my toes. Where exactly were we? I didn’t recognize the river, or the area surrounding it.

As I reached for the door handle with a shaky hand, Ellen appeared in the window and popped the door open for me.

“Come, Maggie. Just a little farther. Can you walk on your own?”

I wasn’t sure I could handle it, but I wanted to at least try. Gripping Ellen’s shoulder with one hand and the door with the other, I lowered myself from the truck’s cabin to the ground. I felt a few lingering cramps in my arms and legs, but other than that I felt strong enough to shuffle around.

I gave Ellen a nod and a smile, and she began guiding me along the river, her hands resting on my shoulders. I wanted to ask why we were leaving the truck, but when I turned to ask, Ellen just smiled and kept walking. I assumed that meant she knew what she was doing. We wound our way through the bushes for a few minutes, occasionally stopping to untangle my blanket from a bush. It was then that I realized I was barefoot and still dressed in my pajamas. I pulled my blanket tighter around me, as if to keep the world from seeing me in such a disheveled state.

We weren’t on a planned hike, but we weren’t exploring either. Ellen seemed to know exactly where to go. She walked with surefooted steps, around trees and between patches of plants, always following the river. It was almost as if she’d walked this path before. Had she gone hiking without me? Unusual, but entirely possible.

Then we came upon the waterfall. It wasn’t tall, but it was wide and rushing. A fine mist filled the air at the bottom, creating rainbows when the sun hit it just right. It was breathtaking. I’d had no idea something like this was so close to home. If I’d known about this place, I would have hiked miles to see it.

And yet, something about it unsettled me. As we approached it, my hands began to feel clammy and my steps became unsure. Every step we took sent chill after chill up my spine. The place had the same feeling as a haunted house, and I wanted to turn and run the other way. What exactly were we doing here?

“Maggie, do keep walking. We’ve almost arrived at our destination.”

I tore my eyes away from the waterfall, realizing Ellen was trying to push me forward. Her hands were like ice, even through my blanket, and I could feel them tightening on my shoulders. I could feel my anxiety building up, and my legs threatened to give out.

“Oh no. Not yet, my dear. I know you can keep going.”

To my surprise and horror, I began to take steps without willing it. My feet moved slowly, placing one in front of the other until I was lumbering forward. I fought to regain control, but nothing seemed to work. An unseen force was pushing me through the last of the trees, demanding I continue against my will. I gulped down the urge to scream.

Without the trees blocking the way, I could see the path was turning into a two-foot wide ledge that wound behind the waterfall. As I stepped onto it, the water pooled on the stone soaked into my pajama bottoms and chilled my toes until they were nearly numb. This was awful. Combined with the constant sense of dread in the air, I was ready to break down crying. I wanted to go home, to curl up in bed and sleep until my heart stopped racing. Why was my aunt making me do this? What was so important? And why were we going behind a waterfall? Was this Indiana Jones or something? Would there be a cave back there, guarding some ancient treasure?!

Then, after I was forced to take one last step, the oppressive feeling was gone. Like a weight lifted from my shoulders. I let out a hoarse breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, and my head spun for a moment. Thank god, it was finally over.

As it turned out, I was right about the cave. It was fairly large, with enough room in it to fit a minivan without any chance of water touching it. It was dry inside as well, but the air was cold. I tugged my blanket onto my shoulders, as if wearing it like a cape. The walls were stone, spotted with chalk drawings that looked like a kid had tried to make an ancient cave painting. What was this place?

Ellen’s hands disappeared from my back, leaving two cold hand prints where they’d rested. She walked around me to the far wall, stopping a few feet from it. She must have touched something because suddenly the wall disappeared, turning to dust like it had been made of dust.

And beyond it, standing tall and shimmering faintly in the darkness, was a mirror.

* * *

When I opened my eyes again, it took me a moment to realize I wasn’t in a cave behind a waterfall. No, I was still very much lost in the Emerald Graves, and I was still very much a dragon. I was also still laying half in the river, but that could wait for the moment.

What had that dream been about? Had it been a dream, or was it a memory? It felt real, but parts of it seemed so far-fetched that I couldn’t help but doubt it. A mirror sitting alone in a cave behind a waterfall with a disappearing rock protecting it? That sounded absolutely bonkers! Then again, I was living as a dragon in an entirely different world filled with magic, demons, and hot-as-fuck horned men. Maybe it had been a memory after all?

There was no point in dwelling on it. It didn’t explain how I’d gotten to Thedas, nor the fact that I was a dragon, so I pushed the memory away and got to my feet. It was nearly sunset now, and I was no closer to finding an Inquisition camp than earlier. In fact, my chances of finding one were dwindling every second I spent worrying.

Still ankle-deep in water, I shook myself off and picked up as many of my flower bundles as I could. Yes, I was on a deadline, but there was a chance I’d never find the shrine again if I left. And technically I’d agreed to bring the shrine flowers, and I still wanted whatever its prize was. No point in backing out now. So I followed the stream back to the shrine, doubling my speed when the familiar bushes came into view.

“Deviating from the plan, I see!” the voice said as I dropped the flowers in front of its home. “No accounting for whimsy.”

I didn’t understand what it meant by all that, but I figured I didn’t have to. Half the things the mystery creature said were gibberish. I just wanted my prize.

“No time tonight! Come back tomorrow for the pretty.”

Caught off guard by the statement, it took me a moment to realize what the voice had just said. When it dawned on me, I shrieked and stomped my feet, nearly crushing the bundle of embrium under a foot. How dare it say that! I’d spent so much time gathering flowers and dealing with personal issues, and it wanted me to wait?! No! That wasn’t the deal!

“Stupid beastie! Danger! Listen!”

I didn’t want to listen. I was being cheated out of my reward, and I wasn’t going to stand for it! I wanted that prize now, before I had to leave. It wasn’t fair…

Out of nowhere, a loud crunching sound came from the bushes just over the river, sending a flock of startled birds flying into the sky. I immediately ceased whining and ducked down, watching the foliage thrash about from under my own bush. I could see flashes of red and the glint of swords raised, along with the screams of some kind of animal, and I couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through my body when I realized what was going on.

Red templars. They were slaughtering something. Probably for their dinner, if they still ate at all.

It was a bad situation. I needed to get away quickly and discreetly, and hopefully find an Inquisition camp. Or, if I wasn’t lucky enough to find one of those, I needed to find some kind of shelter to spend the night in. Whatever the outcome was, I absolutely needed to get away.

Just as I was getting ready to make a break for it, a pair of nugs burst from the bushes, squealing and spattered with blood. They dove headfirst into the river and paddled to the other side just as a red templar rogue shot out after them. His daggers were coated with blood, matching the dark stains on his armor. He looked like something out of a nightmare.

It only got worse as he grinned at the fleeing nugs and lifted a bow from his back. Good god, he was enjoying his hunt. He was going to kill those poor little nugs and have fun doing it! What a monster! I had to do something! Or at least hinder him somehow…

Going against my better judgement, I lept from the leafy safety of the bushes and tackled the templar to the riverbank. Somehow, I’d taken him completely by surprise. He barely managed a yelp before my claws found his throat in the space between helmet and armor, ending his life. His bow skittered out of his lifeless hand and into the river. I swallowed a mix of bile and relief. He wouldn’t be hurting anything anymore. I’d done the right thing, right? One less red templar in the world was a good thing.

An alarmed shout pulled my attention to the nearby trees. A red templar swordsman was rushing towards me, sword raised and dripping with fresh blood. I could handle red templars when I had the drop on them and when they were alone or distracted. This guy was being followed by two red templar archers and was clearly looking at me.

Shit, I was in trouble.

Launching myself off the dead templar, I took off to my right, following the river upstream. When I knew the swordsman was out in the open, I headed into the trees on my left and ducked around as many trees as possible. Archers would have a tough time hitting a moving target, especially in a forest like this, and a sword had a better chance of getting stuck in a tree than in my hide. I was free as long as I stuck to the forest.

If only I’d paid attention to the shadows moving with me on the ground.

As I rounded a particularly large tree, a small dark object flew into view and bounced off the ground in front of me. I thought it was some kind of bird, or maybe just a rock.

Then it exploded. A thick green gas filled the air around me, and I breathed it in before I could think about stopping myself. My muscles seized up the instant the gas took effect, and I tumbled to the forest floor in a twitching heap. I tried to force my joints to unbend, to try and get my feet back under me, but I couldn’t move.

I was utterly helpless and in the hands of the templars.

I was beyond fucked.

With as much strength as I could muster, I let out a high-pitched shriek that echoed throughout the surrounding forest. It wasn’t my paralytic scream. I wanted help. Even as the templars bound up my limbs with magic and began dragging me away, I screamed and roared through my teeth until my throat felt raw and I tasted blood.

I had only two questions on my mind after that; had anyone heard my call for help, and how long did I have before the templars killed me?


	28. Friends in an Unfriendly Place

As the day turned into night, my luck only seemed to get worse and worse.

Much to my displeasure, I was forced to keep the red templars company for a while. They brought me to a villa not far from the shrine. The building stood tall on a high cliff, but looked too old and decrepit for any decent people do be living in it. It practically screamed “BANDIT HIDEOUT” in bright neon letters above the front gate. Once we were close, we were joined by a group of venatori mages dressed in black cloaks. They seemed overly pleased to have me, and didn’t hesitate to make the templars drag me inside.

I didn’t spend a lot of time in the courtyard. Orders were thrown around like confetti, and I was manhandled into the building. The mansion’s interior didn’t look any better than the outside. If anything, it seemed messier. What had once been a symbol of wealth was now a cesspool of decay. The walls were splotched and crumbling in places, and signs of structural damage could be seen where the floor tiles cracked and buckled like tiny mountain ranges. Any paintings that remained were in dire need of attention, and the tapestries and curtains were beyond saving. Anything that could have sparkled at one time had been stripped away by time and thieves.  Stained glass windows were shattered, floors were covered with debris, and the air had a musty smell that made me think of wet mold.

I had to resist the urge to dry heave; the magic muzzle the venatori had placed on me kept my mouth firmly shut. I had to breathe through my nose, or risk passing out. The bindings on my legs were magic too. They looked like regular metal shackles, but they were covered in silver markings that pulsed with light every time I tried to struggle free. If I pulled too hard, they sent a harsh bolt of magic through my body that turned my guts to ice and made it a million times harder to breathe.

When the templars released their hold on me, I took a moment to study my surroundings. They had brought me to some kind of workshop in the basement. It was in the same sorry state as the rest of the house, but most of the debris had been pushed to the outer edges of the room. There were no windows, and the only door was the wooden one we’d just come through. Thick metal bars jutted from the floor on the far side of the room, and heavy looking chains had been installed in the floor and walls to turn it into a sort of holding cell.

The thought of being chained up brought back memories of my first week in Thedas, when I’d been captured by marauders on the Storm Coast. I’d been miserable and had expected to be killed or sold to a zoo. I was bigger now, but the thought of those constricting chains around me made me physically ill.

I needed to escape.

Steeling my mind, I started fighting against my bonds. Surprised by the sudden movement, the mages around me nearly jumped out of their skins, but they didn’t hesitate to act. The enchantment on the shackles lit up like a firecracker as the magic awoke, and it took me a few seconds to realize just how much pain I was in. I felt like I had a violent blizzard raging within me, turning my heart into a block of ice. When I stopped fighting, I could almost feel the frost crawling over every muscle and vein and bone inside me. Was that what hypothermia or frostbite felt like? It was agony just to breathe and impossible to think.

As I struggled to keep breathing, the mages wasted no time. They moved me into the cell, chained my limbs to the floor, and forced my mouth open far enough to drip some kind of strange liquid down my throat. It was the color of old blood, reeked of rotten fruit, and tasted like someone had mixed mud and kool aid together. I tried to spit it out, but my strength was still gone after my struggling. It only took two people to keep me still and one to feed me the foul potion. Then they strapped a cold, metal muzzle to my face and locked me in the cell.

I couldn’t figure out what was in the potion, but it didn’t take long for the effects to become noticeable. At first, the edges of my vision began to warp, making the room look like it was filled with water. I was able to stand once my strength returned, but I didn’t remain standing for long. When the dizziness set in, I felt like the world was a boat and I wanted off. Everything rocked back and forth at a slow speed, and the disorientation forced me to keep off my feet or risk hurting myself.

The entire time I was experiencing this, I could hear the venatori chatting with each other just beyond the bars.

“How long until it’s asleep?” I heard one ask.

“Shouldn’t be much longer. I had to weaken the dose since we killed the last one. We’re lucky to have found this one at all.”

“Yes, let’s try not to poison this one, hmm? The blood’s not as potent if it’s dead during the process.”

At the mention of blood, I began to panic. Gods above, they were going to kill me. Well, maybe not kill me, but they were going to bleed me and take my blood for their crazy magic rituals! I had to get away before it was too late! I had to go and find Lavellan!

Unfortunately, I had no energy left to even lift a claw. I could only lay there and wheeze as the potion did its job, turning me into a half-unconscious mess. I could barely force my eyes to close as the venatori opened the cell door and approached me, twisted daggers in their hands. I didn’t want to watch them work.

I had to save whatever strength I could manage.

* * *

The night in the villa was one of the worst nights of my life.

Under the influence of the sedatives, my mind was a haze of fog. I was constantly drifting between awareness and sleep, but I had no control over anything. It was as if I were floating above myself, connected yet not. Everything I felt was dull and muted. If I tried hard enough, I could watch the mages work without losing focus. I could feel their knives under my scales, cutting at my flesh until blood flowed freely. They gathered the red liquid with a disgusting efficiency, storing it in glass jars that disappeared the moment they were filled.

I’d heard multiple times from the mages in Skyhold that dragon’s blood was an extremely powerful and extremely rare item. It was sometimes used as a catalyst in alchemical experiments, usually to give a potion’s effects a big boost. It was also used in armor, to create powerful runes and sigils. And, most commonly, it was used by Reavers to gain the strength of a dragon in battle. Skyhold had a few reavers in their ranks, including The Iron Bull. Seeing him fight under the influence of dragon’s blood was like watching a hurricane while standing in the eye of it. Graceful and brutal, with enough power to level a small forest without getting winded.

I did not, however, want these venatori bastards getting their hands on my blood. If the red templars had any reavers among them, they would probably use my blood to attack any Inquisition camps nearby. There had to be some way for me to escape and destroy those bottles.

And yet, despite my desire to escape being high among my priorities, my anger towards them only seemed to drain whatever energy I had gathered. Imagining all the ways I would tear them limb from limb wore me out, leaving me unable to think of ways to free myself. Then again, the potion seemed to be doing a lot of energy-draining as well. Whenever the effects began wearing off, the mages would force another one down my throat, renewing my state of not-quite unconsciousness. I would float for a bit, feeling every touch and every stinging cut on my skin, until the Fade would lull to me to sleep. And when sleep called, I couldn’t help but comply.

Thanks to whatever was in that potion, I was able to lucid dream. I couldn’t pick specific memories to experience, but I could think about a specific feeling and trigger a memory colored with that feeling. It was like a play being set up on a stage. It looked a little wonky, but only when I tried to look hard at something. If I tried to focus, the scene would unravel, leaving me floating in the darkness. I felt only the barest of sensations from reality. Nothing hurt and I didn’t bleed from any cuts I knew were there, so I was happy to relive the happy memories from my life in relative peace.

For a while, I relived my first year of high school. I experienced my first lunchtime encounter with Zach once or twice, then followed our relationship from there. It was like I was watching a TV show through the main character’s eyes, except with lots of skipping over boring parts. It was a non-stop romance reel that was embarrassingly nostalgic. I couldn’t help but smile as I relived every key moment in our relationship. Our first kiss, rushed and inexperienced after an afternoon study session. Our first high school dance; a 70s themed mess complete with spiked punch, two fist fights in the parking lot, and a whole lot of calls to parents. Memories flitted by like birds taking flight, bringing wave after wave of nostalgia with them.

As the night passed and I was given the strange concoction again and again, different memories were added to the stage. I saw bits and pieces of happy times, like when my brothers and I had played together as kids or they had treated me to ice cream on one of their rare days off from practice.

When I watched the me of the past live her life, I felt the sting of loneliness in my heart. I missed Zach and my brothers. They were the people I could say anything to, even if it was a long rant or a silly comment. I was so tired of being unable to talk to anyone. Yes, I could write when I wanted, but I couldn’t act like I wanted. I felt like half the time I had to set an example, to show that I was capable of helping instead of hurting. The dragons of Thedas were beasts. They didn’t speak English or Common or any language I knew, and they didn’t care for any creatures other than their own kind.

I looked like a dragon, but I was too human on the inside to truly be one. And I still wanted to be human. Maybe I was better off looking like a human, too.

“Is that what you wish?”

As the screen displaying my memories went dark, I saw something move out of the corner of my eye. When I turned, I saw a blurry shape floating next to me. Its body was glowing faintly blue like one of the wraiths that spilled from an open rift, but it wasn’t attacking me. Was it a spirit, like the ones Solas talked about?

It floated closer to me, its form becoming wispy for a minute before stabilizing. “Would you like to be human again?”

Its voice was unfamiliar, and yet I had the strangest feeling that I knew it from somewhere. I could feel a fluttering sensation in my chest, like a butterfly had landed on my heart.

“Hello,” I said.

“Hello,” it replied.

I smiled at it. “Are you going to keep me company?”

“If that is what you wish. But you have not answered my question.”

I frowned, trying to remember what it’d asked. “What was it again?”

“Do you want to be human again?”

I automatically wanted to say no, but I couldn’t get the word out of my mouth. Would it be so bad to be human again? If I became human, then I could talk to people again. I could laugh and cry and tell terrible stories. And play music. I could pick up a guitar and play a song for the first time in months. I could steal one of those Orlesian cellos and propose a duet with the minstrel in the tavern. I could learn how to play new instruments that only existed in Thedas. And, if I was feeling daring, I could talk to The Iron Bull.

Not that there weren’t downsides to being human. If I changed, I would have to watch what I said around everyone. I wouldn’t be able to confide in anyone unless I swore them to secrecy, and there was a chance they would think I was a crazy person. I would have to be aware of my expressions and body language all the time. Not to mention I would have to figure out some kind of excuse that would explain why I could play so many musical instruments. There were too many observant people in Skyhold, and I had too much to risk.

“I don’t think so,” I finally answered. “It would cause too much confusion.”

“As you wish.” The spirit gave me a courteous bow, then began to slowly fade away. But before it could disappear entirely, an idea struck me.

“Wait! Spirit, wait! I have a favor to ask.”

“Oh?” it asked, its voice much fainter than before. “And what is that?”

“Do you know an elf by the name of Solas? He has a lot of spirit friends.”

The spirit was silent for what felt like an eternity, but eventually nodded. “I know of him, yes.”

“Then...can you take a message to him?”

Another moment of silence, then a quiet, “For you, my lady, I will try. What is your message?”

A spark of hope lit up my heart, and my mind began formulating ideas. If this spirit knew how to reach Solas, then I could tell him where I was and ask him for help. He could bring the entire Inquisition down on the villa, if he could convince the others I really was in there.

But then...that would tell him exactly what I was. Did I want that? Did I want him knowing I was really a human?

As I debated, I could feel the potion wearing off, bringing clarity back to my mind. I shoved my worries away and gave the spirit my message. There was no time to dawdle. I wanted to survive, and this was how I had to do it.

* * *

With no windows in my basement prison, I had no way of telling how much time had passed since my capture. My constant drifting between reality and the Fade made it impossible to keep track of time. Just waking up was disorienting, and I had barely enough time to blink before more of that disgusting potion was in my mouth again. I’d ingested so much of it, I was starting to taste it in my sleep.

And yet, that lingering taste in my mouth kept my mind surprisingly clear. With that constant reminder, I was able to ignore my memories and wait quietly in the Fade, watching for any sign of my new spirit friend. It had agreed to take my message to Solas, or at least find a spirit who knew where he was. I could only hope it could find the elf specifically.

There were too many risks with my plan, too many things that could go wrong. What if the spirit got lost, or Solas wasn’t paying attention? What if the venatori got all they needed from me and killed me? Would they kill me if they got spooked by something outside? If they suspected the Inquisition was making a move, they’d start packing up and tying up loose ends, which meant they’d probably off me or take me with them for future needs.

No, I needed to stay positive. I needed this plan to work, or I would never see the light of day again.

“Maggie.”

I scrambled to my feet, expecting to see my spirit floating just behind me. Instead I saw Solas walking towards me out of the fog, the crystal on his staff shining with a bright white light. I wanted to run to him and hug him, but I hesitated. If he was a demon in disguise, I wanted distance. But the elf in front of me was no demon. His eyes were the same gray blue I remembered, crystal clear and focused. I relaxed visibly and reached out to him.

“Solas! Oh thank god, you’re here! You’ve got to help me escape! The Venatori-”

“Maggie, be calm,” he said, his tone bordering on stern. “Take a deep breath and listen. The Inquisition knows where you are.”

His words lifted a huge weight from my heart, but I couldn’t resist frowning. “You know where I am? Then why haven’t you guys come for me yet?!”

Solas shook his head. “I assume you are unaware of exactly how many enemies stand between you and freedom. The Venatori and the red templars are inside your villa. Had we tried to take them on before now, we would have lost everyone. We had to wait for...reinforcements.”

“Reinforcements? But it takes four days to get here from Skyhold! It’s only been one day, right?”

“No. Come the morning, you will have been a hostage for three days.”

Three days, not one. I’d been missing for three days, all because I’d gotten lost and made a bunch of stupid mistakes. Now I was paying for it. Gods above, the Venatori would have so much blood by now…

“What did you say?”

I flinched as Solas spoke. I hadn’t realized I’d spoken aloud. His hand gently touched my cheek, tilting my head up so he could look me in the eyes. I wanted to back away, to try and sort out my thoughts, but I couldn’t stop the words as they tumbled from my mouth.

“The Venatori are taking my blood. They keep giving me this weird potion that knocks me out, and when I wake up they’ve got more and more bottles filled with blood and they won’t stop.” I scrubbed a hand across my cheek, suddenly aware of the tears in my eyes. “I’m scared of what I’ll feel like when I wake up! I don’t wanna die, Solas!”

“You will not die, Maggie,” he replied curtly, cutting off my despairing thoughts. “You must be brave. The Inquisition will be moving on the villa when the sun rises. We will rescue you.”

Hearing him say that with his voice the full of certainty banished the last of my sadness. I didn't even care that I was giving my identity away to Solas. The Inquisition was coming for me. They were going to rescue me, and kill every enemy in their path to do it. It was a bloody thought, but it was one I needed to cling to like a life preserver. I couldn’t let myself think about what would happen if they failed. I was surrounded by sharks, and rescue was on the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tune in next week for an on-time update (and possibly some art)!


	29. Decisions and Dragon's Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thanks so much for all your support, guys! I'm so happy you've stuck with me this far, and I hope you'll keep reading!

When I opened my eyes again, I was back in reality. The mage’s concoction had worn off early, mostly due to a little help from Solas’ magic. He'd given me just enough of a mental push to wake me up.

Not wanting to arouse suspicion, I kept my eyes closed and my breathing slow and even, acting as if I were still asleep. The mages around me were fairly quiet. I could hear two across the room, playing some kind of game. The sound of shuffling cards clued me in, along with the telltale clink of coins being bet. Another man sat on the floor by the cell door, a box of glass bottles in his lap. I could hear them clatter together whenever he moved. Judging from their sound, most of them were full. I didn’t need to guess what was in them. The last one was a woman. She was humming to herself as she dug her knife underneath the scales on my side, making a shallow cut that kicked the remaining fog from my mind. It was agonizing, but I had to keep my reactions hidden, or else they would dose me again. I needed to stay awake until dawn.

“So did Lord Maliphant say what we were doing with the beast once we’re done?” the woman asked her companions.

“I heard he’s thinking about presenting its head to the Grand Duchess, if her plan succeeds,” one of the men playing cards replied. “Or maybe Samson will want some dragonscale to go with that armor of his.”

“What if the Elder One’s pet wants a playmate?” the other card player suggested. “It could use a new toy. Or a snack.”

My face was expressionless, but on the inside I was screaming. All of their ideas were terrible. I didn’t know who the Grand Duchess was, but I knew Samson from Haven. If they were on Corypheus’ side, I didn’t want to be anywhere near them. Not as a trophy, and definitely not as a piece of extra armor. And I didn’t want to be a snack either!

A sudden crash from the stairwell had all four people jumping to their feet, weapons drawn. I took a risk getting caught and cracked one eye open, just enough to see some blurred shapes. They were all facing away from me, taking small steps towards the stairs. I could hear stomping from the floor above, along with angry shouting.

“Kaffas! It sounds like the Inquisition’s finally taken the bait. Time to fight!” the woman hissed. In a blur of movement, the mages grabbed their gear and took off upstairs one by one, spells at the ready. When they were gone, I opened my eyes completely and took a long, slow breath.

The Inquisition was here. They were here to rescue me and take me home. I was so happy I could’ve started crying. Yet at the same time, I was worried about what the woman had said about “taking the bait”. Had the Venatori known that the Inquisition would attack today? Was there some kind of trap waiting for Lavellan and the others once they got inside?

I tried to get to my feet, only to collapse as my strength waned. The potion was gone from my system, but I was reeling from blood loss. I’d gone almost three days without food, and I wasn’t sure the potion could be counted as water or food. My body was close to shutting down at that point. There was no way I would be able to walk out of the here, let alone break the chains. I needed someone to find me and free me. At least the venatori I’d been with had left my cell door open.

So I sat there and waited, listening to the sounds of battle coming from above. I could hear swords clashing and the screams of the dying from my tiny prison, and I could even cover my ears. It just went on and on. Every explosion I heard made my heart skip a beat.

Was the Inquisition winning?

Were the red templars still around, working with the Venatori?

Would I die today, or see the sun again?

Suddenly, a series of powerful blasts rocked the villa to its foundation, and I felt the last of my nerves fizzle out. The battle was lasting too long. The Inquisition should have won by now. They were in trouble, and it was all my fault. I needed to move, to get up and fight with them. If my friends were hurt while I was playing the victim in the basement, I would never forgive myself! I had to do something to get out.

Forcing myself to sit up, I looked at the shackles around my legs. They were all an inch-thick metal monsters, with chains that seemed to weigh a pound per link. My feet were too big to squeeze through them, the enchantments on them turned out to be fireproof, and I was still too weak to pull the bolted plates from the floor. I was well and truly stuck. Unless…

Unless I changed again.

The spirit I’d met in the Fade. It had asked if I wanted to be human again. Maybe becoming human again was my ticket out of here? It was worth a shot. And if it worked, I could just ask the spirit to change me back into a dragon when I was free.

“Is that what you wish?”

In a blip of light, the spirit appeared before me, the same wispy blue ghost I met in my dreams. Without the potion hindering my senses, I could see its features were distinctly male. His eyes were solid blue, but I felt his gaze upon me. I gave it a nod, not allowing myself time to doubt.

_I want to help my friends. I need to join them and fight._

“You would not be able to fight, even if you became human,” the spirit said evenly. “Your body is at its limit. You would not be able to stand.”

Turning my head, I looked at the box of bottles next to the cell door. From where I sat, I could see at least twelve of them, filled with my blood and ready for transport.

_No, I can fight, I told the spirit. If I drink dragon’s blood, I can get the energy I need, at least temporarily._

The spirit bowed its head, his blue eyes searching my expression for doubt. “Then if it is truly your wish to change…”

I returned the spirit’s gaze with a steely one of my own.

_It is._

“Very well then.”

The moment the spirit lifted its hands, I felt a wave of magic wash over me. There was a familiar pop in my chest, like a joint popping back into place, followed by the feeling of a thousand needles in my skin. My entire body seized up involuntarily and I had to bite back the scream that threatened to escape me. Through the tears in my eyes, I could see my claws shrinking against the stone floor, growing smaller and smaller until they were fingernails again. My paws shrank until they turned to hands and feet. I shed my scales as I transformed. They fell from me like gray and red raindrops until I could see my old skin color, though patches of scales remained. My snout disappeared as well, reforming until I had a human nose and mouth. My teeth lost their sharpness and became blunt again. I could feel something tickling my neck and back, and when I reached back I realized I had hair again. But when I reached higher, I still had horns, though they were much smaller than before.

“The power in the pendant has been depleted. I can no longer change you. But you are human-like once more, as you have commanded,” the spirit proclaimed as it lowered its hands. “Should you need me again, you need only summon me.”

Summon? How was I supposed to summon a spirit? Didn’t I need a magic circle or some kind of ritual? And how had I done it just now?

I must have looked confused, because the spirit added, “I am bound to the pendant, and - in turn - to you. You need only to hold it and wish for change, for that is what I am.” It bowed to me as it began to fade from sight. “Farewell.”

Still a little confused by its words, I looked down at my chest. The hourglass pendant looked just how I remembered it; a tarnished silver bauble with dark red sand sitting in the lower chamber. Did the spirit’s words mean this pendant? How was that possible? The hourglass had come from Earth, hadn’t it? It had been sent to my aunt. She had a collection of antique things just like it.

I quickly dropped the subject, realizing there were more important things to be doing at the moment, like escaping and joining up with Lavellan. But before I could do that, I had things to do.

Shoving the shackles from my arms and legs, I crawled out of the cell and over to the box of bottles. They were all roughly the size of mini liquor bottles, filled almost to the top and plugged with a cork stopper. Every one had the same amount of blood in it, so there was no point in being picky. I lifted one out and uncorked it. The coppery smell of blood, coupled with the fact that it was my own, made me want to gag. I couldn’t believe I was doing this. This was so unsanitary and gross, but I needed to get out before someone decided to come back and check on me.

Bottoms up.

Steeling my nerves and my stomach, I pressed the mouth of the bottle to my lips and chugged the whole thing in three gulps. It was nauseatingly thick, but I somehow got it down and kept it down. I could only hope my plan worked, and that I would get the energy boost I’d heard about.

While I waited for the dragon’s blood to kick in, I took a moment to study this side of the room. There were two tables, one on either side of the door. The one the two men had been sitting at had their abandoned card game on it. The other table had a small canvas bag overflowing with deathroot fruits and blood lotus on it. I didn’t need to wonder what the herbs were for. I could smell the fruit from where I sat.

Aside from the tables, there were also stacks of debris and abandoned items sitting in the corners, containing rotted paintings, moth-eaten clothes, and old books with vermin-nibbled pages. I felt bad seeing everything in such disrepair. I wondered what had caused the original occupants to leave without all their things.

Seeing the clothes reminded me of my own state of dress. I was wearing an unfamiliar gray tunic that was long enough to reach the middle of my thighs. It was belted at the waist with a strip of dark leather, which had an empty pouch hanging at my side. I also wore a pair of dark breeches that already had red splotches spreading in places I'd been cut. My feet were bare, and somehow had more calluses than I remembered.

I should have been glad I wasn't naked, but I more confused than happy. Why was I wearing these clothes? Where had they come from? The last outfit I remembered wearing was a tank top and pajama pants. When had I put this on?

Before I could try and answer my questions, I felt the blood I’d consumed take effect.

It was like a fire had come to life in my chest, like a spark that quickly turned into a forest fire. My worries vanished in an instant, replaced with surge after surge of pure adrenaline that made my head spin. My skin crawled with goosebumps. I felt like I could face an army of demons and come out on top. It felt so fucking good, but it also felt...terrifying. This power wasn’t mine, but it had been taken from me, and I was fucking pissed about it.

I wanted to make the Venatori pay for imprisoning me.

I wanted to see them die.

Before I headed upstairs, I looked around the room one last time. There was a dagger on the floor of the cell, right where the venatori woman had left it. I grabbed it, feeling better now that I had something that could damage an enemy. Then I walked to the box of blood, set three of the bottles aside, and upended the entire thing onto the floor. Glass shattered at my feet and the stench of old blood filled the room like a mushroom cloud. It was only one box, but I felt almost vindicated by destroying it. Let’s see the Venatori get that back. Fucking assholes.

With my business concluded, the only thing left to do was leave. I crept through the door and up the stairs. The door at the top was open just a hair, and I could still hear shouting coming from somewhere close by. A quick peek revealed no one in the room, but there were shadows moving in the hall to the right. So I stuck the remaining three bottles into my empty hip pouch and started creeping towards the hall to the left.

Many of the rooms I passed were deserted or had a corpse or two hidden inside. It was hard to tell who was winning from my position, as most of the fighting seemed to be taking place outside. But whenever I heard footsteps coming towards me, I ducked behind a suit of armor or a curtain to hide. I didn’t want to be caught, no matter what. I need to find Lavellan or Solas or someone I knew. Anyone at all would be fine. I’d even settle for Vivienne, if she were here. I just wanted a familiar face to help me.

A riot of shouts drew my attention to a nearby open window. From my hiding place, I could see it was facing the inner courtyard. There were quite a few corpses within it, all a mix of Inquisition and Venatori soldiers. Those who still stood attacked their enemies without mercy, painting the ground bloody red with every hit.

A man in yellow robes stood with his back to me, his hands raised high as he forced the Inquisition’s fighters to retreat with a moving wall of fire. As he twitched his fingers, I could see vines of fire emerge from the other side and snap at those who got too close to it. Any arrows that were fired over the wall were shot down by his fellow mages, giving the trampled lawn a dusting of white ash.

And in the middle of the Inquisition’s forces, fighting with all their might, stood my friends.

Lavellan was trying to nullify the wall of fire with her own magic by pushing against it with a wall of ice. She was sweating, but the look of determination on her face made my heart skip a beat. Solas had a barrier of his own up, shielding the remaining soldiers from an incoming bolts of magic. Cassandra and Sera were fighting at their backs, shielding them from the enemies biting at their flanks. Everyone was cut up and bruised, but they were on their feet and still fighting. It was inspiring, but it was easy to see they were losing their ground. They needed backup, and soon.

The urge to fight was like a gnawing hunger in my stomach, but my fear of failure was an even match for it. Did I have time to run and find some soldiers to back them up? Or was it up to me to join the fray? Did I still have any of my skills left from being a dragon? Could I still breathe fire or paralyze people with my voice?

When I heard a chorus of familiar shouts, I abandoned my choice in the matter. Lavellan’s wall of ice has disappeared and she was now kneeling on the ground, an arrow buried in her right shoulder.

In that moment, I traded my fears for an unbridled rage that bordered on bloodlust. My vision became a haze of red, clouding my sight and my judgement. My heart felt like a war drum in my chest, making my head pound with every second that passed. I could feel my entire body heat up, and that heat only increased when I saw the archer responsible for Lavellan’s injury standing on the left side of the courtyard, nocking another arrow.

When he aimed at Lavellan again, I lost my mind.

With an inhuman amount of grace, I was hauling myself through the window and into the courtyard, ready and willing to spill blood. A cry tore from my already-raw throat, surprising everyone in sight. With my stolen dagger in hand, I tackled the archer to the ground, rolling withhim until I was sitting on his chest. He shoved at me, trying to knock me off and reach his own dagger, but I wasn’t going to let him go. I was still screaming like a banshee as I plunged the blade into his heart, over and over until he finally ceased his struggling.

When the haze of red dissipated a bit, I retrieved my dagger and stood on shaking legs. The rage was still there, but I could feel it slipping away. I needed to drink again if I wanted to stay standing.

“Well now, that’s a surprise,” the man in yellow hummed, his magic not even faltering as he looked at me. “Who are you, my dear?”

I turned to him, eyes blazing with hatred. This man. He was the one in charge. Just looking at his face was enough to have me reaching for another bottle of blood. I wanted to rip his smug face off, to tear him to shreds in front of his own army. I wanted him dead and fed to the darkspawn. And to do that, I needed more energy, more power.

It was time for me to change back into a dragon.

I reached for my pendant, already mentally calling out to my spirit friend, when something dawned on me.

The spirit had said something about the hourglass; something about it...being depleted?

In other words, it was as useless as a cell phone with a dead battery.

The color drained from my face, leaving me shaking as I gripped my useless necklace. Gods above, I couldn’t fight this man as a human. Even if I drank the rest of the dragon blood, I had no skills to channel that power into. I hadn’t paralyzed anyone with my scream. Chances were that I couldn’t breathe fire or make a shield either. I was just a stupid human girl with no abilities. And the man in yellow knew that.

Shit.

His spell struck me hard and fast, knocking me back into the wall a blast of energy that rattled my head. As I struggled to my feet, he turned back to Lavellan and the others, leaving two of his minions to go after me. They laughed and prodded at me with their staves, releasing small electrical charges every time they touched me. With nothing to do but retreat, I ended up backing myself into a corner to fend off their shocking attacks. They just laughed and jabbed at me again, this time digging into one of the cuts on my legs. I screamed and dropped to my knees, clutching the reopened wound. Why was I so weak? I couldn’t protect myself anymore. I needed scales and claws and sharp fangs, not squishy skin and blunt teeth. Why did I have to be so goddamn weak? Why couldn’t I be stronger?

The moment I began thinking that, a wave of intense deja vu passed over me, leaving me dazed and confused. Combined with the shocks from the mages, I ended up kneeling on the ground with my palms pressed to my ears. My pulse was like rolling thunder in my ears, drowning out the world until all I could hear were my thoughts.

Then the memories started coming back. I saw only brief images and heard only blips of sounds, like a scrapbook slowly being filled.

_A small campfire in an old ruin, somehow burning despite there being no wood to fuel it._

_The heavy smell of mud and wet grass, and the soft chirping of crickets._

_The smell of my aunt’s favorite sandalwood incense, laced with the darker scent of blood._

_The sound of a dragon roaring and a demon screaming._

_Then, almost like an afterthought, my aunt quietly whispering, “Run, my dear."_

As abruptly as the memories began, they ended, taking with them the roaring in my ears and the pounding in my head. The world was suddenly uncomfortably quiet, and I shivered as a prickle of terror settled along my spine. Why was it so quiet? I should’ve heard fighting, or at least heard the venatori mages taunting me. And I wasn’t being shocked anymore. Had it all ended?

When I opened my eyes and looked around, my heart all but leapt into my throat.

The mages who’d been hurting me were dead on the ground, their bodies just inches away. Their blood pooled on the ground beneath them, creeping towards me until it was seeping into the knees of my pants. The rest of the Venatori were strewn about the courtyard, very much dead or close dying. The man in yellow robes was clearly deceased. He had about a dozen arrows sprouting from his eye sockets, throat, and heart, and three arrows that had found their target in his trousers. I could only hope he'd been alive when those had hit him. He’d deserved much more than that.

Lavellan was kneeling next to me, her hands pressed to the cuts on my arm. Her fingers were entwined with strands of white light, the same ones she’d healed me with when we had first met. It felt a little like history was repeating itself. She worked diligently to seal the worst of the wounds she could see, despite being wounded herself, and only stopped when I placed a trembling hand over hers. When she looked up, I saw the misery in her eyes and the tears spilling down her cheeks. But that misery changed the instant we locked gazes. Her eyes widened considerably, and she clutched at my hand.

“Herah?” she asked quietly. “Is it really you?”

When I nodded, she threw her arms around me and held me as tightly as she dared. My throat, already dry and abused from the day, closed up when I heard the heartbreak in her voice. For a moment, all I could think about was how I’d hurt her, how I’d put her through hell by getting lost. I’d been so selfish and stupid, just like my old self, and now my mistake had cost lives. The Inquisition had sent good soldiers in to save me, but now I was useless. I was just a useless human girl.

“...’m sorry,” I rasped. “I’m so...so sorry, Lavellan.”

“It’s alright, Herah,” she interrupted. I felt her hand petting my hair, like one would comfort a child. “You’re safe now. We’ve got you.”

Safe. Yes, I was safe now. I was back with friends, and not a prisoner of the Venatori. I would be okay.

“Inquisitor!”

As the shout rang out, a scout ran into the courtyard and stopped a few feet away from Lavellan. He was tired and spattered with blood and gore, but his salute was impeccable.

“Report, scout,” Lavellan commanded. “How are our numbers?”

“Seven dead, fourteen with minor wounds. It was close, but we won. The Venatori are dead.”

The elf sighed and stood up, relief plain on her face. “Better than we’d hoped for. Get the dead and wounded back to the camp. I think we all deserve a little rest.”

“We should return to our camp. We will need rest, as well as a healer,” Cassandra said. She stepped around the corpses and offered me a hand up, which I happily accepted.

Or at least, I would have accepted it, had I been able to stand on my own two feet. The second I tried to get up, my knees buckled painfully and I fell to the ground with a thud. My energy was dwindling rapidly, like water draining out of a sink. I could feel my stomach twisting itself in knots, having been empty and ignored for days. Everything hurt, even more than when I’d awoken at dawn. I was painfully aware of very cut, every bruise, every bump on my body. And then, as swiftly as it began, it was replaced by a numbness that left me cold and unbelievably tired.

I didn’t remember being picked up. I didn’t remember Cassandra holding me close as we left the villa, bound for the camp. I faintly remembered Lavellan calling my name, trying to keep me awake. The only thing I remembered were my thoughts of safety. Gods above, it felt like a dream, but it was real.

The Inquisition had come for me. My friends had saved me.


	30. Waking Up Human

I don’t know how long I was out. It felt like an eternity, but the Fade wasn’t a place where time existed. As my body worked towards recovery in the real world, I was left to my dreams; to wander through my memories until I was called back to consciousness. Without the noxious potion clouding my head, my dreams felt clearer and calmer. They were less like a chopped up theater production and more like a streamlined movie, complete with reclining theater seats and over-buttered popcorn. I felt peaceful, even when Solas appeared in the seat next to me.

“How are you feeling, Maggie?” he asked. He was no longer in his armor, but in his usual beige tunic.

“Much better, Solas. Thank you for all you’ve done for me,” I said with a smile. I tossed a piece of popcorn up into the air to try and catch it in my mouth, but missed by a mile. I glared at the offending piece as it landed on the theater floor, then sighed. “Y’know, I realized something a little while ago.”

“Hmm? What did you figure out?”

“When you found me in the Fade, you called me Maggie, but you knew I was in the villa. Was that when you figured out who I am?” In other words, had I given myself away then, or sometime before that? When had my guard dropped enough for him to figure it out? He was too smart for his own good.

“I have known about you for quite some time. It was merely a theory I’d formed after our first few meetings in the Fade, but your hostility to Cole after the battle at Haven was more than enough evidence.”

“I see,” I said lamely, making a point of avoiding his gaze. I kept my eyes on the screen, but was no longer watching the memory being played. I tossed another piece of popcorn into the air, only to miss once again. Grunting, I shoved my feet against the seat in front of me and leaned back in my chair. “You know, you should just call me Herah. It’ll make things a lot easier.” I paused, then added, “I don’t really get called Maggie anymore.”

“Alright, Herah,” he tested, watching my face for changes. When I continued to eat my popcorn, he added, “Now that your identity is no longer in question, you realize that I know you are not a dragon, yes?”

“No, I’m a dragon,” I corrected. “Or I was, before the spirit changed me.”

“But you were not originally a dragon.”

“...I’ve been a dragon my entire life in Thedas,” I dodged poorly.

“And exactly how long have you been in Thedas?” he countered.

His staff tapped against the tile floor, shifting the world around us. The theater melted away, revealing the interior of my cabin on Earth. I was suddenly overcome with a wave of nostalgia as I looked over the bookshelves, the couch, and even the cluttered coffee table. From where I sat on my bed, I could see almost everything I owned. Or at least, everything I used to own. That was a glum thought.

“You said you were twenty-three,” Solas continued. He was standing in the kitchen, looking at the windchimes and dreamcatchers hanging in the window above the sink. He looked intrigued by them.

“I am twenty-three,” I replied quietly. I could feel myself losing the verbal battle, losing the will to hide from him. He was too cunning. He knew exactly what was going on. I couldn’t keep dodging him. Eventually, I’d make a mistake and he’d catch me in my lies. It was time to tell him the truth.

“If you promise not to tell anyone, will you keep my secret?”

Solas turned away from the window, his expression void of any emotion. “Would keeping your secrets endanger Lavellan or hinder the Inquisition?”

“What?! No!” I cried as I lurched off the bed towards him. “I just don’t want you all to hate me for lying.”

“So you are not truly a dragon.”

“No, I am! I just…” I groaned and sat back down, resting my head in my hands. “I wasn’t originally a dragon. I was human, but it’s not that simple.”

“Oh? What do you mean?” Solas’ tone wasn’t accusing, like I’d feared. It sounded more like curiosity now, like he was genuinely interested in what I had to say.

“Well,” I began, “I wasn’t born here. In Thedas, I mean. I was born on a planet called Earth…”

* * *

When I was finally called back to the waking world, I could barely function. My body felt foreign to me, like putting on a pair of shoes on the opposite feet. Every muscle ached, and twitching my neck sent a spasm of pain through me. My limbs felt too long, too thin to be of any use. My chest was smaller and cooler, like the fire I’d had as a dragon had disappeared. I couldn’t help the quiet whimper that escaped me as tears threatened to fall from my still-closed eyes.

Gods above, I really was human again. I was human, and I didn’t know how to change back.

“....mhh...Herah?”

Forcing my eyes open, I tried to focus on the world around me. The sky was a strange brown color and had a bright spot of light behind it that made my eyes hurt. Wait, that was the sun. I was in a tent, then. I could smell crushed elfroot and crystal grace, a perfumy scent that wasn’t at all medicinal to me. It was relaxing, and I could feel the tension in my arms and legs subside with every deep breath I took.

“Herah! You’re awake!”

Suddenly my field of vision was filled by a shoulder and loose brown hair, and the smell of leathers and lyrium filled my nose. It was Lavellan, and she was hugging me with a gentle urgency I didn’t quite understand. I tried to speak, but she had effectively crushed the air out of my lungs. When I coughed, she immediately loosened her hug with a gasp her hands landing on my cheeks.

“Herah! You have returned to us! I was so worried you would not recover!”

She wasn’t yelling at me, like I’d expected. Solas must have kept his word and not told anyone my secret. That was a relief.

Lavellan, unaware of my thoughts, continued babbling. “The Venatori who had you have all been killed. Only a few stragglers escaped, but our scouts are on their trail. They won’t live long for what they’ve done to you.” Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her tattooed cheeks. She was crying. I’d made her cry, and I felt fucking awful for it.

“La...vell…,” I croaked, my throat tightening with guilt. Without thinking, I reached up to touch her cheek, to stop the tears from falling. But my strength fled from me, and my hand landed on her lap instead. She quickly scooped it up and held it between her own, her green eyes wet and full of sadness. I couldn’t stop my own tears from falling as I watched her.

“Oh, Herah, _ma falon! Ir abelas,_ I should have kept you closer. If I’d been paying attention, you would have been safe!”

With what little energy I had, I gave her hands a brief squeeze and groaned, “No, I’m...sorry.”

We stayed like that for a while, holding hands and crying. It felt good to cry, to finally apologize to her for being such an idiot. It felt like we’d become a little closer for it, and it told me I could still call her a friend.

Then my stomach growled, ending the heartwarming moment. Lavellan laughed and kissed my forehead, a tender action that made my heart flutter. “ _Hamin,_ Herah, continue to rest. I’ll go get you some food. I’ll be back shortly!”

Before I could protest, she was out of the tent and calling out orders to prepare an early meal. The thought of food, any kind of food, set off another loud rumble in my gut. I hadn’t had anything decent to eat or drink in three days, plus however many days I’d been unconscious. Had my body been in better condition, I would have walked to the camp’s food stocks and just tucked right in, no utensils necessary. But no, I was stuck in a cot in a tent, waiting for Lavellan to serve me.

“So it’s true. You are awake.”

I didn’t need to look to know it was Solas. He was standing in the tent’s opening, a waterskin in one hand and a book in the other. He gave me a soft smile as he approached, and I tried to return it. I owed my life to him and his magic. Had he not found me in the Fade when he did, I might have spent the rest of my life in chains, being harvested for blood. Not an appealing thought, but it made freedom taste so much sweeter.

“Would you like to sit up?” he asked as he set aside his things. I nodded and attempted to push myself up onto my elbows, but I didn’t even have the strength for that. Solas had to gently push me until I was sitting upright.

Then, when I was sure I could handle sitting without his support, he offered me the waterskin. “Drink,” he said. “Water will help your throat.”

I felt like a baby being offered a bottle, but I couldn’t object. Water sounded absolutely divine. When I had that first sip and it hit the back of my throat, all I wanted to do was guzzle the entire thing. But Solas kept me from doing that by pulling the skin away, chiding me for drinking so fast. “You’ll only make yourself sick that way,” he said with a shake of his head.

I pouted, but didn’t say anything. He was right. I didn’t want to puke up water. That would be such a waste, and I wanted to get better as soon as possible.

“How are you feeling now, Herah?” he asked.

“Better,” I mumbled. “Hungry.”

I watched Solas breathe deeply for a moment as his magic appeared at his fingertips. “Hunger is good,” he said. “It means your body is healing.” He held out a hand to me, nimble fingers glowing white. “Here. Give me your arm.”

I obeyed him, offering my left arm for him to look at. His touch was cold but gentle as he pressed his magic into the cuts criss-crossing my arm. As I watched, the angry red marks inflamed with infection receded, turning a light pink by the time he finished. He did the same to my other arm, chasing away the irritation with every press of magic.

“How long was I asleep?” I asked quietly. I was still getting used to the idea of talking. In the Fade, I was used to it. In reality, talking was something I hadn’t done in months. I had a feeling, however, that I would get back into the habit of it fairly quickly. Questions were bound to pop up sooner or later.

“You’ve almost slept the day away. Sunset is not far off,” Solas informed me. “The weariness is a side effect of all that dragon blood you drank. Reavers only drink a small amount to gain their abilities. You, my friend, consumed nearly four times that amount.” A small smile appeared on his face. “I do not know whether to congratulate you for your luck or berate you for your recklessness.”

“What should’ve happened to me?” I asked, a mix of curiosity and dread pushing the words out.

“Do not worry about it for the moment. You must focus on your recovery.” He looked up at me as he finished his work on my arms and stood up. “We have other things to discuss at the moment.”

“Like what?” I watched him walk around the cot until he stood behind me, hands still shimmering with magic. He gently pressed his fingers to my chin, urging me to turn my head until I was looking ahead. Drats, I couldn’t watch him work.

“I still have several questions for you. Ones that I hope you can answer.” As his magic spread like a soothing balm across my shoulders and spine, I sighed and leaned into his touch. Magic was fantastic.

“I s’pose I could try and answer them.”

“Thank you,” he said, lowering his voice until it was just above a whisper. “Now, how did you come across that pendant of yours?” When I reached up and found the trinket missing, he added, “Lavellan is holding it, at the moment. She thought it might break if we left it on you.”

I fumbled at my neck, suddenly feeling uncomfortable for more than one reason. The hourglass wasn’t the only thing missing from my person, I realized. Everything I’d been wearing was missing now. My clothes were gone; no tunic, no pants, no underwear. I was naked in the tent with just Solas, with nothing but a blanket covering me. And that… Well, that was just plain awkward.

Between my desire to have my necklace again and the urge to hide under my blanket, I hadn’t noticed Solas was moving away from my back and towards my right side. I tugged the blanket up to my chin on instinct, causing him to pause and arch an eyebrow.

“I’m naked,” I said bluntly.

“Ah, yes. We could not see the extent of damage done to you without removing them. Sera is trying to find you something to wear while we remove the bloodstains.” He gave me a wry smile, then said, “You’re remarkably short for someone your age.”

I scowled. “‘Scuse you, five foot four was average on Earth. It’s not my fault that you’re all giants.” Technically the average was five foot six, but I wasn’t going to share that.

Solas chuckled as he sat on the edge of my cot. “It sounds like you’re regaining a bit of your fiery attitude. Good. I expect you’ll be back on your feet soon enough. But in the meantime,” he patted the ground in front of him, “would you be so kind as to uncover your legs? It’s easier to heal when I can see the damage.”

With a huff, I leaned forward and tugged the blanket to the side, uncovering my legs up to the middle of my thighs. I understood that he was helping me and that I could trust him, but I couldn’t shake my uneasiness. I didn’t have any way of defending myself at the moment. I wanted my firebreath back, and my scream and my shield. I wanted my powers back.

“Herah.”

I blinked a few times, realizing I’d been staring blankly at the numerous cuts on my thighs. I took a moment to shake off as much unease as possible, then cleared my throat with a cough.

“Sorry, you asked me a question, didn’t you?”

“Yes. About the pendant.”

I nodded, remembering his question clearly now. “Right. Well, it’d been sent to my aunt. I was picking up my mail when I’d noticed she’d gotten a package. I meant to give it to her when I visited her that day, but...I’d forgotten I had it.” I swallowed my guilt, having no way of righting that wrong now.

“It was meant for your aunt? Interesting.”

“I guess? I mean, she had a bunch of other stuff that looked like it. She liked antique jewelry, I think.” I lifted a hand and touched my temple, my mind suddenly feeling fuzzy. “I...I remember putting it on and playing my cello. But after that, my memories get weird. Or...at least, I think they’re memories. One of them has a mirror in a cave, but...it doesn’t feel real. More like a dream, maybe.”

When I looked up, Solas was watching me carefully, no longer healing my legs. He seemed distant, as if his thoughts had brought him somewhere else. I waved a hand in front of his face, just to see if he would respond. He blinked twice before meeting my gaze, eyes strangely bright.

“If you are not adverse to the idea, I would like to do some research on your pendant. I would like to discover its origins, or at least study the Spirit of Change bound to it.”

I sputtered for a moment, confused by his request. “Whoa, now, hold up. What’s this about a spirit being bound to it? How long has it been there?”

“I assumed you knew already,” he said, brows raising in mild surprise. “The spirit you sent to find me in the Fade. I met it only briefly, but I know it is bound to your hourglass.”

“Oh,” I replied lamely. “Well, I guess some research couldn’t hurt. Just...don’t break it, okay?” It was the only thing I had to remind me of my aunt, and I didn’t want to lose it. It was a stupidly sentimental thought, but I didn’t like the idea of it being gone forever.

“I will return it to you in one piece, Herah. You have my word,” Solas assured me.

“Thank you.”

With that issue out of the way, Solas went back to healing my legs and I retreated into my thoughts. A spirit bound to my pendant? That...actually made a little bit of sense. I wasn’t too familiar with the binding process or how all of that worked, but it sounded right for what I’d experienced. The spirit had said “my lady” and had changed me into a human. The concept of a spirit being bound to me, or at least my necklace, also accounted for my drastic change in size after Haven. I’d wanted to grow so badly, I must have bypassed the “requesting” bit.

So why did the spirit only pop up at those times? Did it have something to do with energy inside the pendant? Had my change in Haven depleted it? If that was how it worked, how had it recharged between then and now? How had it been charged in the first place?

I had so many questions, but not enough mental energy to keep track of them. As the healing progressed and time passed, I began to think of nothing but food and a bath. Where was Lavellan? Was she finished making something for me, or would it take longer? And for that matter, where was Sera? If she had clothes for me, I wanted them as soon as possible. Then again, I would feel a whole lot better if I bathed first.

Just when the silence was starting to get awkward, Lavellan swept back into the tent, carrying a bowl of what smelled like some kind of meaty soup. She was followed closely by Sera, whose arms were full of various pieces of clothing and several pairs of boots. I had the sudden inkling that finding something to fit me would be difficult. Solas was right. I was short.

“Have you finished checking her injuries, Solas?” Lavellan asked as she sat down on the ground to my left. Solas, now standing at my right, nodded and walked around us to retrieve his waterskin.

“I have. She should heal by tomorrow.”

“Did you get a look, Solas?” Sera chimed in. When he gave her a confused look, she grinned and waggled her eyebrows. “Has she got...y’know. Normal ladybits? Or is it covered in scales, too?”

“Sera! That is wildly inappropriate!” Lavellan hissed, narrowing her eyes at the smaller elf.

Sera, in response, blew a raspberry and groaned. “Ugh, you two are no fun. Don’t know why I bothered.”

And with that, she dropped the clothes in her arms and turned on her heel, stalking out of the tent without a single glance back. I hid behind my blanket, a blush creeping into my cheeks. Sera was cute, but she sure knew how to ask an awkward question with a smile on her face. And what made the question worse was that I didn’t even have an answer for her. It wasn’t like I’d had time to check before being bombarded by people.

“Anyway,” Lavellan muttered with a shake of her head, “let’s get you fed, Herah. I’m sorry it took me so long.” She reached for the bowl, lifting it carefully to keep its contents from spilling. My stomach growled like a bear, loud enough to let the entire camp know I was starving.

“Then, if it’s alright,” Solas said with a courteous nod. “I will be retiring for the evening. You’ll find me in my tent, should a problem arise.”

“Thank you, Solas,” I said quietly.

He smiled and replied, “You are most welcome, Herah.” He turned to leave, but stopped just before he could duck out. “Before I forget, that book I brought along is for you. In case you have trouble sleeping.”

“Oh?” I glanced at the book next to my pillow, eyes darting over the cover. “A Brief History of Music in Thedas?” I felt my heart skip a beat at the thought of music. I wanted to start reading immediately. I didn’t even care that it was history. “Thank you, Solas!”

“You will need to sleep tonight, if we are to leave for Skyhold tomorrow. I’ve found that reading is an excellent way of relaxing.” He nodded to me, then to Lavellan, before disappearing through the tent flaps with a quiet farewell. I watched him go, and looked at Lavellan just in time to see her expression take on a wistfulness I knew too well.

“You’re smitten with him,” I chuckled, delighted when a pink tinge appeared on her olive cheeks. It felt nice to use her own words on her. I could still recall the day she’d used them on me when she’d caught me oggling Bull in Haven.

She sputtered for a solid minute before averting her eyes and offering me a spoonful of soup. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Solas is...he is a dear friend.”

“Oh?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. “A dear friend you kiss in the middle of the rotunda at Skyhold?”

When she stared at me with eyes the size of dinner plates, I couldn’t help but give her the smuggest grin I could manage. “Don’t worry. I don’t think anyone else saw you two. And I’ll keep it a secret, if you want.”

Lavellan was silent for a beat, then nodded ever so slightly, the color in her cheeks spreading to the tips of her ears. “If you wouldn’t mind? I...would not want him to feel uncomfortable.”

“I don’t mind. You’re a cute couple,” I teased, watching as Lavellan’s ears turned from pink to red. She sighed and held out another spoonful of soup, which I gratefully accepted. It was watered-down ram stew, thin but good, and it filled me with a comforting warmth that spread all through my limbs. It almost felt like soaking in a hot bath. I hummed appreciatively after every bite until my stomach was full. I was sorely tempted to sleep, but I was both too awake and too smelly to try.

“Um...Lavellan?” I squeaked. She looked up from the pile of clothes Sera had left, pausing mid-fold to listen.

“Yes, Herah? Is something wrong?”

“No, I just...is there somewhere I can bathe?” I fidgeted under my blanket, suddenly feeling too warm. “I don’t like how I smell.”

The elven woman hummed for a minute, then shook her head slowly. “I’m afraid we don’t have anywhere nearby for that. There is the river to the east, but it’s far too secluded and it is nearly sunset.” Putting down her newly-folded tunic, she placed a warm hand on my knee and gave me a sympathetic smile. “I suppose the baths in Skyhold are a little far away. If you like, I can bring you some water and a washcloth, if it’s truly bothering you?”

I was torn between politely declining the washcloth and begging for a bath. I wanted to be clean, but I didn’t want to inconvenience anyone. Besides, I’d already strayed too much from the group as it was. I didn’t want to risk getting nabbed again.

“A washcloth would be nice, if it’s not too much trouble,” I mumbled.

“I’ll be right back, then.”

As Lavellan disappeared through the tent flaps, my thoughts lingered on Skyhold. I would see so many people there, many of them friends, and they would have no idea who I was when I saw them. It would require so much explaining that I probably wouldn’t get much time to myself.

Then again, I didn’t like the thought of being alone. When I was alone, I tended to get caught up in my memories. I didn’t want to dwell on them. Even if they were about how I’d gotten to Thedas, I didn’t care. I was sick of the headaches and blackouts that came with them. Moving on with my life was what I wanted to do, not dredge up something I’d forgotten.

Of course, there was still one question I wanted answered: Where was my aunt? Was she in Thedas, too? Could she be looking for me? Or was she still on Earth, worrying about me? What if she thought I was dead? Or...what if she was dead?

I swallowed audibly as my stomach did a few dozen flips, threatening to expel the soup I’d just consumed. Gods above, I didn’t want to think about Aunt Ellen being dead. Of all the thoughts in my head, that one made me feel the worst. She was just an old lady. She didn’t belong in a world like this! It was so violent here...

“Herah, are you alright?”

Startled, I looked up into the concerned eyes of Lavellan. She had a small pail of water and a large washcloth in her hands, but she set both aside to kneel down next to me. She removed one of her gloves and pressed a callused hand to my forehead. Her lips were pursed into a thin line.

“You’re as pale as Cole. Is something the matter? Do you feel unwell?”

I quickly shook my head, trying to push away the gloomy thoughts before I answered. “I’m alright.”

“Are you certain?” She took her hand away from my forehead, placing it on my cheek instead. Her thumb brushed against the scales peppering my cheekbones, a comforting yet strange sensation.

I nodded, and replied, “I promise, I’m okay.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she seemed to accept my answer. Leaving the water and cloth on the ground, she stood slowly and stretched. The world outside the tent was dark, but I could see the glow of a nearby fire through the thick canvas. The smell of cooked meats wafted through, threatening to bring back my hunger. I ignored it by picking up the washcloth and dunking it in the water. Getting at least semi-clean was top priority at the moment.

“I think I will retire for the night as well,” Lavellan said softly. She was looking at something through the tent’s opening, her expression suddenly taking on a small grimace. Before I could ask what was wrong, she bent over me and placed a gentle kiss to my forehead. “A pair of guards will be stationed outside your tent for tonight. Don’t hesitate to shout if you need help.”

And then she was gone, ducking outside before I could say a word. I wanted to call out, to bring her back and ask her what she’d seen, but I stopped myself. She was still the Inquisitor. She had other responsibilities, too. Taking care of me and answering all my nosy questions wasn’t a good use of her time. I could just ask her tomorrow, once we were on the road.

So I returned my attention to cleaning myself. The water was cool as it seeped from the cloth, and felt great on my battered body. It stung a little in the worst of my cuts, but I powered through it. I had felt worse, and this was a necessary routine I’d have to get back into.

I scrubbed myself as much as I could until the water in the bowl was grimy and the washcloth was too dirty to keep using. A few of my scales had fallen off during the process, and I spent a few minutes plucking them out of the blanket. Each of them were about the size of my thumbnail, and had a raised ridge down the middle that tapered as it reached the pointed end. The majority of them were dark gray, but I found a few that gradated into a stark shade of red. I set them all aside, intent on keeping them. Maybe Dagna could help me turn them into jewelry or something. They were too nice to just toss.

With nothing else to do but wait for sleep, I picked up the book Solas had left for me. A Brief History of Music in Thedas. It was an old thing with a spine creased from use and a pocked leather cover. The whole thing was probably around three hundred pages thick. Several pages sported folded corners and notes scribbled in the margins. The contents page revealed that it was divided into nine sections; one for each nation. The history portion of the book began with the supposed origin of music, and then went on to describe how each nation began developing their own instruments and styles.

It was a fascinating read, but I wasn’t drawn to the history very much. Instead, my attention was pulled to the sheet music placed at the back of the book. There were only thirty or so pieces there, but seeing the tiny black musical notes made my chest ache with longing.

For the first time in a long time, I realized just how much I missed my cello. I missed the familiar smell of rosin sap, freshly applied to my horsehair bow. I could recall tuning the instrument, my fingers twisting the pegs in the scroll until the notes I played were correct. I could remember all the calluses I’d gotten from years of play. When I pressed the pads of my fingers together, I could feel them; faint but still there. I wanted so badly to find some kind of instrument in the camp, to play a song over and over again until my hands cramped and my arms ached.

As the light from the lantern beside me guttered, I closed the book and curled up under my blanket. Perhaps I could talk to Josie about finding me a cello once I was back in Skyhold. Would she help me, or question me? And if I did get a cello, where would I play it? Then again, maybe it wasn’t a good idea to ask. After all, I was going to change back into a dragon once the pendant had been recharged. I wasn’t going to be a human for long.

When I finally drifted off to sleep, I was hugging the book close, almost like one would cuddle a stuffed animal. Dragon or human, I still loved music. It was a part of me, and I never wanted to give it up.

* * *

Just before dawn, I found myself unwillingly pulled from sleep. The night had been filled with tense dreams I couldn’t recall, and I groggily sat up. Trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in was turning into a nightmare in itself. The cot was hardly a feather bed and the pillow was more like a slab of concrete. However, I was determined to make it work.

There had to be some way to sleep. Maybe I could call for Lavellan or Solas and ask them for a spell? Another option was a sleeping potion, but I wasn’t exactly ready to chug one of those. If I ever had to look at one of those again, it would be far too soon.

A strange rustling brought my attention to the back of my tent. Something was moving around outside. It sounded like a person, the way it was muttering to itself. And it was...dragging something? It was unnerving to listen to, but I kept quiet. I didn’t want it to come near me.

“Stupid beastie!” a voice hissed. “Kept me waiting for days! But a deal’s a deal. A pretty prize for a pretty quest!”

Before I could call out, something was shoved under the edge of the canvas, roughly bumping against my pillow. It was a package of some sort. When I picked it up, I quickly realized it was wrapped in large leaves and bound with vines. It was also surprisingly light. A few tugs had the vines slipping away, and the leaves sprung outwards, no longer confined.

Resting in the middle, not a petal out of place, was a flower crown. The blossoms were small and pink with yellow speckles in their centers, and tiny green vines of curling ivy bound everything in place. I didn’t hesitate to put it on. It was perfectly sized for me, resting easily in front of my horns and hiding them from view. As I turned my head this way and that, it stayed in place, like it had been glued to me. A deep breath revealed that the flowers smelled faintly like lilacs.

Then it dawned on me what the voice belonged to; the creature in the shrine. The one I’d brought flowers to. It must have gotten tired of waiting for me to return. I’d been missing for several days, after all. Bringing my prize to me was a surprisingly nice gesture.

“Thank you, shrine dweller,” I whispered. I heard a cackle in the distance, then silence. The creature had returned to its home.

With nothing else to do but either sleep or wait until everyone else got up, I removed the flower crown and placed it next to my pillow before curling up under the sheets again. The scent of lilacs was like a silent lullaby, luring me back into the realm of sleep.

Until the sun came up that morning, I dreamt that my brothers still loved me.


	31. Building Anxiety

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note to the readers who don't follow my Tumblr or Twitter: Updates are officially switching to every other Sunday. Classes are starting up on Monday, so I won't have as much time to write. Wish me luck!

The journey back to Skyhold consisted of three long days of awkwardness.

Wait, let me rephrase that. The first day was awkward. The rest were...decent, to say the least.

Not too long after receiving my flower crown from the shrine creature, the sun rose completely and the camp sprang to life. I was joined in my tent by Lavellan and Cassandra, who shared the day's plan over a breakfast of fruit-filled porridge. We would be returning to Skyhold to help me acclimate better to my new body, as well as figure out just how the hell we were going to spin my story.

“Why don’t we ask Varric for help with that?” I asked as I chewed a piece of apple. “He’s a famous author, after all. Couldn’t he come up with something?”

Cassandra made a disgusted noise, and I realized my error in mentioning the dwarf. He’d lied to the Lady Seeker before, and she was probably still sore over the whole Hawke Twins issue.

“Then again, he’s an impulsive liar,” I added quickly. “He might make it worse.”

“I still think a better option for your story would simply be the truth,” Lavellan sighed. She was studying my flower crown intensely, her eyes gliding over every leaf and blossom with fascination. “That way there is less of a chance of it being proved false, should anyone go digging.”

I swallowed one last spoonful of porridge, my tastebuds going sour at the thought. No, lying even more wasn't a good idea. I already had to worry about keeping my human history a secret. I didn't know if I'd be able to keep all the lies straight for very long. Solas had figured me out right away, but that was because he’d met me in my dreams. How long before everyone else knew it? I couldn’t keep denying my history, no matter how fast or far I ran. I didn't need to pile on even more lies.

Maybe it was finally time to tell Lavellan the truth. If I opened up that can of worms, how would she react? Cole had said multiple times that she would understand, that she would accept me no matter what form I took on. Yet I couldn’t help but worry that she wouldn’t take kindly to the fact that I’d lied to her from the very beginning. People usually didn’t react well to that. Still, it was something I would have to do eventually, and now was as good a time as ever.

...or maybe I could just wait until we were back in Skyhold. Yeah, that sounded better.

When the three of us finished our food, Cassandra graciously took our dirty dishes out so Lavellan could help me get dressed. My physical strength wasn’t quite at one hundred percent, but I could stand for a short period of time before my legs started buckling out from under me.

Thankfully, Lavellan had figured out exactly what I would wear and how it all was layered. The underclothes were first, of course. The bra was more like a tube top with a long strip of fabric that looped around my neck, but it offered some decent support. I didn’t have a large bust, but they weren’t A-cups either. The underwear wasn’t too bad either. It was cotton, like the bra, and covered enough to make me feel a lot less exposed. Neither had the decoration I was used to seeing on Earth. Did Thedas even have lingerie? If they did, it was probably from either Antiva or Tevinter.

Next came the breeches. Made of pale lambswool, they were as soft as fleece and had ties that laced up the front. Just like the wool on Earth, they also retained a fair amount of body heat. Lavellan hoped they would help keep me warm since I no longer had scales protecting me. I was more than happy to accept any help I could get in that department.

The only problem I had was that they were a little long in the leg, but that was easily remedied. Or at least, according to Lavellan it was easy. I thought otherwise.

“This won’t take long, Herah. Just keep still.”

I wasn’t listening to her. I was too busy staring at the dagger she had drawn from her belt. It was her backup weapon in case she ran out of mana in close combat, but I only saw it as a threat. My hands tightened their grip on my knees, nails digging into the soft wool. Every cut on my body burned as foggy memories from the villa bubbled up in my head. I could hear the clink of bottles, half of them full of blood, and the smell of rotten deathroot fruits.

_Is this all a dream?_

_Am I going to wake up, only to find out the Inquisition failed their rescue?_

_Or maybe they never came for me at all?_

_Am I still trapped in that dark dungeon, slowly dying as the Venatori bleed me dry?_

A strange warmth on my hand brought me out of my terror. Lavellan had placed her hands on mine, and was looking at me with a calming smile.

“Herah, you’re safe. I promise,” she said.

It took me a moment to process the situation. I was in a tent in the middle of an Inquisition camp. Lavellan was kneeling in front of me, her hands warming my own. She sounded real, and smelled real too. Outside the tent, I could hear people moving around, going about their duties and talking to one another. I could hear several horses nearby, snuffling and pawing at the ground with their hooves. I could smell the forest around us all; green and earthy and alive.

I was safe, just like she said.

“Herah?” Lavellan said, her voice still full of concern.

I sighed and removed one of my hands from hers to rub my aching eyes. I felt like I was going to cry. “I-I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I don’t mean to be difficult. I just…”

“Herah, I promise you, it’s no trouble.” She stood up and pressed a kiss to the top of my head, right between my horns. “We can adjust your clothes later. For now, let’s just finish getting you dressed.”

I nodded mutely, unable to say anything without risking a sob. I felt so weak and pathetic, but here was Lavellan treating me so kindly. Was our meeting the result of some good karma? Who in the universe had I pleased? What had I done to deserve such a friend?

The tunic Lavellan had picked out for me was long and somewhat plain, but I felt my mood brighten when I saw it. It was a greyish blue; the color of approaching stormclouds. Lavellan - either trying to make me happy or actually being honest - said it matched the color of my eyes. I put it on without a second thought, and had a stifle a laugh when I realized how long it really was. It was more of a dress than a shirt on me. There was too much fabric to tuck into my pants, so Lavellan helped me belt it at the waist for the time being.

Last but not least, I donned a pair of dark leather boots. They were soft and looked fairly new, but they were two sizes too big for my feet. When I put them on, my feet practically rattled inside them. Not to mention there was barely any cushion to their soles. It felt like I was walking on planks of wood.

“Do I really need to wear shoes?” I grumbled.

“You can’t run around barefoot,” Lavellan snipped as she tightened the laces a bit more. “If I can’t be barefoot, then neither can you. And I was raised wearing footwraps.”

“Footwraps? Why can’t we wear those? At least they’d fit.”

Lavellan fixed me with a serious stare for a moment before breaking out in a grin. “Perhaps you should come with me when I return to my clan. I think you would enjoy their company.” She stood in one fluid movement, pulling a small hairbrush out of her bag as she moved behind me. “Here, let me brush your hair. It’s quite a sight.”

I allowed her to do so with a nod. At once, I felt the fingers of her free hand threaded into my hair, tugging the brown curls loose from where they had hooked on my scales.

“Could your clan teach me how to hunt? Like, with a bow and arrow?” I looked down at my hands with their short nails and squishy palms. “I can’t hunt like I normally would anymore.”

Lavellan hummed as she worked through a particularly tough snarl. “Perhaps, though I think it would be a better idea to ask someone in Skyhold for help. Perhaps Sera?”

I snorted. “And wind up like Cullen with a target full of bees? Tempting, but no.”

“How about Varric?”

“He’s not really a bow-and-arrow kind of guy. He’s devoted to Bianca, after all.”

“Fair enough. Perhaps Scout Harding would be willing to help? Or Dalish from the Chargers?”

“Ah, I hadn’t considered them. I’ll talk to them, once we get back home.”

Lavellan paused her brushing, her breath hitching ever so slightly.

“Do...do you consider Skyhold home, Herah?”

I opened my mouth to reply, but found my voice no more than a squeak. When had I started thinking of it as home? It was something I hadn’t even considered before. I had always wanted Thedas to become my home, right? But there was a difference between wanting it and finally saying it.

“I think I do,” I whispered. “Or at least, home is wherever the Inquisition is.”

“You do not wish to return to your own home once things are done?”

I shook my head stiffly, not wanting to get my hair caught in my scales again. “No. I don’t have a home to return to.”

As Lavellan returned to brushing my hair, I gnawed on my lower lip. No, what I’d said wasn’t quite right. I still had someone. Aunt Ellen. She was still on Earth, probably sitting in her cabin or tending to her garden, waiting for me to return.

Or…

I grimaced as my temples began to throb. It felt like I was getting a pounding migraine, but it wasn’t painful. I pressed the heels of my palms to my eyes until I saw tiny white lights, trying to relieve the pressure a bit. Lavellan made a concerned noise, but I grunted and waved off her attempts to help me.

My aunt wasn’t on Earth. Somehow I knew she wasn’t there, waiting for me to return. I couldn’t remember exactly what had happened after going to the waterfall mirror with her, but a gut feeling told me I hadn’t ended up in Thedas alone.

But if that was the case, then why had I woken up alone on the Storm Coast?

Where was my aunt?

* * *

Once we had departed from the Emerald Graves, our path brought us through very few towns. Everyone, including myself, had agreed that seeing someone with horns was a surefire way to cause panic, even though my flower crown covered them up. So we kept mostly to the forest trails, stopping only to rest briefly or take care of a rift or two.

I was beyond grateful for any stop we made. While I had gained back some physical strength from resting, I had never ridden a horse before, let alone a hart. Lavellan’s hart was a beautiful creature, tall and statuesque, but riding it was harder than anything I’d ever encountered before. I quickly found out that I was too stiff in the hips, which Sera was more than eager to snicker at. I received plenty of advice on how to develop better riding posture from the others, but I barely understand half of it. Trying to relax my back didn’t help me at all. It made me feel like my spine was going to snap whenever we started galloping!

Which was why I was more than eager to vote on making camp when the sun began to dip low towards the horizon. A full day of riding had killed all the nerves in my butt, and the concept of sitting on the hard ground was more enticing than I wanted to let on.

We set up camp in a small clearing that night. While Solas set wards to keep us hidden, Cassandra and Lavellan set up the tents and Sera gathered some kindling for a fire. Despite being useless on my feet, I managed to hunker down and dig the pit for the fire. Soon Sera and I had a small blaze going, just in time for the others to finish their work. We ended up splitting a bag of fennec jerky for dinner. It wasn’t quite as appetizing as I remembered, but it was filling.

An odd sort of peace settled over us after that, not quite awkward but not comfortable either. To keep from making some kind of stupid remark, I pulled out the book Solas had given me and attempted to start on the section about the Avvar.

I didn’t even get halfway through the first paragraph before the questions started.

“Herah, if I may ask…”

I looked up from my book, meeting Cassandra’s somewhat curious gaze from across the fire. “Yes, Lady Seeker? What’s on your mind?”

“Well, I find myself curious. You seem so… at ease with yourself now. With a transformation as drastic as yours, I was half expecting you to lash out.”

I pursed my lips as I closed my book, my gut telling me that this conversation was going to last a while. “No, it’s not ease. It’s more like...resignation.”

“Resignation?” she asked. I nodded, looking down at the scales peppering the back of my hand.

“When I changed in the villa, I was under the impression that I could change back the moment I was free. But when I tried, I realized I couldn’t change back like I had hoped,” I explained. “I do not understand it very much, but I’m hoping our resident Fade expert can figure something out.”

“Ah, you will be assisting her, Solas?”

“That is correct,” the elf replied. He glanced at me before continuing. “There is a Spirit of Change bound to her necklace. It stands to reason that another spirit, or the same one, could help her change back.”

Sera made a disgusted noise, her nose wrinkling as she made a face. “Eugh, I don’t wanna hear about demons now! I want to sleep tonight!”

“Spirits, Sera,” Solas corrected. “I’ve told you, a demon is merely-”

“Blah blah blah, that’s what you sound like. Don’t you ever talk about anything else? No wait, you gab about all that elfy shite too. You’re like one of those old books Dorian likes.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I meant that you’re dry and crusty. Probably infested with bugs too.”

Solas didn’t seem at all phased by Sera’s words. He merely returned his gaze to the fire, his expression calm and collected.

I, on the other hand, was close to dying from stifled laughter. Normally I hated seeing friends trade verbal punches, but the conversation I was hearing wasn’t meant to be hurtful. They were playful jabs, and lacked the poison of actual insults. It filled me with a warmth I hadn’t felt in days. It was the kind of feeling you got when you were around good friends.

It felt like home to me.

The conversation dwindled after that, growing silent as the fire died down. Sera volunteered for first watch, claiming Solas’ talk of demons had left her too uneasy for sleep. That meant Solas and Cassandra would share one of the tents while Lavellan and I shared the other.

I hadn’t been tired by the fire, but the moment I settled down on the bedroll, I felt exhaustion behind to pull me away. I was nearing the point of no return when Lavellan paused before dousing the tiny magelight illuminating our tent.

“Is it painful for you? To be human?” she asked, breaking the silence.

Despite my drowsiness, her question made me think about an old movie I’d watched as a child; The Last Unicorn. Near the end, the wizard had changed the unicorn’s form to that of a human to save her from the Red Bull. She hadn’t experienced any physical pain, but her pain and sorrow had been infinite. She had gone as far as to wish for her own death. While I couldn’t say the same for myself, I understood her situation. If I’d had any other choice, I would have avoided becoming human. Being human was complicated. Being a dragon was easier.

“No,” I said quietly. “It’s more like putting a shoe on the wrong foot. Uncomfortable, but bearable for a while.” Without thinking, I reached up and rubbed at the base of one of my horns. It was fascinating how my skin subtly changed from soft to rock hard in the span of an inch. I kind of liked them, in a weird sort of way.

“I see,” Lavellan said after a beat.

I yawned and gave her a sleepy smile. “Hey, Lavellan?”

“Yes, Herah?”

“When we get to Skyhold...I wanna tell you a secret.”

“A secret?” Lavellan returned my smile with one of her own.

I nodded, sending several brown curls cascading into my eyes. I brushed them away and whispered, “Yeah. But I only want you to know for now.” I yawned again, then mumbled, “And you have to promise not to be mad at me.”

“ _Lethallan_ , I could never be mad at you.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise,” she said. Then she leaned over and placed a kiss on my temple before dousing the magelight. “For now, just rest. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

* * *

Just as Lavellan had predicted, the next day was a long and agonizing ride.

In fact, the next two days were just as long, and were equally butt-numbing. The forests soon disappeared, replaced by rocks and stone as we climbed into the mountains. Our mounts made good time on the narrow passes, and we managed to catch our first glimpse of Skyhold around mid-afternoon on the third day.

Seeing the Inquisition banners flying from the castle’s towers filled me with both relief and dread. The sooner we got to Skyhold, the sooner I would be talking to Lavellan about my past. She had promised not to get mad, but I couldn’t quite squash the nerves screaming at me to take back everything I’d said. Was this going to turn out in my favor? Would Lavellan actually believe me, or would she placate my worries, only to turn and lock me away for being crazy?

I didn’t realize my grip on Lavellan’s waist was tightening until her hand rested on my arm, warm despite the cold mountain air. I couldn’t see her face clearly, but her tone of voice told me she was smiling.

“Do not be nervous, Herah. Everything will be fine.”

Gods above, I wanted her to be right. I wanted everything to turn out sunshine and daisies, as if I weren’t a human masquerading as a dragon that looked like a human. I wanted it to be over so I could hide somewhere and read my music book.

However, I couldn’t hide yet, so I kept my cloak closed and my hood up, ready to flee into the castle the first chance I got.

Upon crossing the gate’s threshold, we were greeted by two stableboys and Dennett, who had a hint of worry in his expression. He didn’t so much as look at me as we all dismounted. Instead, he looked to Lavellan and said, “Your advisors are in the war room. Best not to keep them waiting.” Message delivered, he led the animals away to the stables in silence.

As Lavellan took a moment to speak to the others, I let my eyes wander over the courtyard. There weren’t too many people around, though there were several small pockets of civilians and soldiers standing a ways away in the shade of the ramparts. Music from the tavern drifted down from the level above, faint but very recognizable. It sounded like Maryden was singing “I Am the One”. It was always a popular request. If I closed my eyes, I could easily imagine the sheet music in front of me, as if it were printed on my eyelids.

When I opened my eyes again, there were two new shapes in sight; two very recognizable shapes. They were leaning over the stone railing, watching my group with a good amount of interest.

The Iron Bull and Krem.

My heart started working overtime as I observed the two of them, hammering away in my ears until all I could hear was my pulse. When Bull looked towards me, I made a point of staring at my feet until my heart stopped racing. Maker’s breath, why did those two have to be right there?! Why couldn’t they have been in the tavern or somewhere else? Weren’t they supposed to be guarding the workers in Haven?

“Let’s hurry, Herah,” Lavellan whispered.

Her voice, along with her sudden close proximity, startled me out of my thoughts. I noticed right away that she was heading for the upper courtyard, and I had to dash to catch up. Solas and Sera walked ahead of her, ready to run interference if anyone tried to get close. I took huge strides just to keep up with them, and I tripped three times just trying to get up the stairs. Oh, the woes of being short.

By the fourth stumble, I was thoroughly embarrassed and ready to hide in a corner. I wanted to rip off my shoes and throw them off the battlements. I missed not needing shoes.

“ _Lethallan_ , are you alright?”

I looked up to see Lavellan kneeling next to me, a small frown on her face. When I nodded, deciding that I didn’t want to gripe, she gently took my hand and helped me back up. “We should keep moving. We need to-oh! Hello, Bull. Is there something I can help you with?”

My heart felt like it was on a bungee cord inside me, switching rapidly between sinking into the ground and flying up into my throat. Bull was standing behind me. I recognized his scent; a heavy mix of sweat, leathers, and dirt, laced with a bit of that liquor he was always drinking. I could hear him talking to Lavellan, saying something about a letter from Seheron. I wanted to turn and look at him, to see if he looked any different from my new perspective, but I couldn’t move my legs. My hands trembled beneath my cloak, even as I clasped them tightly against my stomach. Even my shoulders were shaking. Was the air around me thinning out? Why was it so hard to breathe? I felt like I was trapped inside a small box that was getting smaller. It was a feeling that was hard to forget.

I was having an anxiety attack.

Without thinking, I grabbed Lavellan’s hand and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to shut out the world without blocking her out. I needed her to be an anchor for a moment. I focused on her glove first; soft leather, worn out to the point of needing a replacement soon. It was warm too, and it smelled like her. Comforting and familiar. I could feel the magic of the Anchor beneath it, a light buzz that made my fingertips go numb.

Breathe, Herah. The panic will go away soon.

Breathe in, count to five.

Breathe out, count to eight.

Breathe in…

Breathe out…

When I opened my eyes again, the world was too bright, but the air was normal again. I no longer felt like I was pulling apart at the seams. I was still intact. Lavellan was in front of me, her eyes huge with worry.

“What happened? Are you well? You were squeezing my hand so hard-”

“I’m okay,” I mumbled, pulling my hood forward a little in and attempt to hide. “I’ll be okay. I’m just...I want to go inside.”

“Are you sure? Should we get you to the infirmary first? I’m sure the advisors can wait-”

“No!” My voice came out in a croak, but it was still firm. “I don’t need that. I want to go.” I didn’t want to be around Bull at that moment. I wanted to be somewhere else, where I didn’t have to worry about his reaction to me. I wanted to put that off for as long as possible.

Lavellan frowned, but nodded and raised a hand. Solas, despite having already climbed the steps to the double doors, joined us back at the bottom of the steps.

“Yes, Inquisitor?”

“Solas, can you take our friend to the war table? I’ll just be another moment,” Lavellan said quietly.

“Of course. Come with me, _da’len_.” Solas led me away quickly, one of his hands pressing gently between my shoulder blades. Not that I needed the extra push to get moving. I managed to climb the stairs without tripping, which seemed like a small miracle at the time.

The rest of the walk melted into a blur after that. I was too focused on breathing normally to notice the people clustered in the great hall or if Varric was by the fireplace. I just needed to put one foot in front of the other until everything was okay again. I needed to remain calm. If I had another anxiety attack so soon, I was at risk of straight up passing out. That was definitely not an option.

When we made it to the corridor between the war room and Josie’s office, Solas stopped me before I could enter the last chamber. Instead, he directed me to sit down on a nearby bench and wait for Lavellan. I had no reason to protest and the thought of sitting was too nice to pass up, so I sat down and kicked off my too-big shoes, not caring that the floor was probably covered in a layer of stone dust. It felt good to get them off, and it did wonders for my nerves. They were one less thing to worry about.

“Lavellan shouldn’t be long now,” the elf said with a hum. “Will you be alright here on your own?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I should be okay.”

Solas took his leave after that, saying he would start on my pendant’s research the first chance he could. I was left alone for only a few minutes after that, and I took that time to meditate. The silence did wonders for my head, calming my still-pounding heart until I could no longer feel it in my temples. Even my flower crown helped me with its near-constant scent. With my back to the cold stone wall and my feet covered in dust and dirt, I felt at peace. I felt more like myself.

When Lavellan arrived, I was ready to face the advisors. I felt like I had steel in my spine again, and I stood up straighter as she pushed the smaller door open. I was a dragon, and dragons could handle anything. I had been through hell to stay alive, and this wasn’t going to stop me.

What I wasn’t prepared for was how tall everyone was.

Even Josephine was taller than me, and she was one of the shortest people in Skyhold. I felt like a child sitting at the adult table at Thanksgiving; extremely out of place and wishing for some reason to bolt from the table.

“So this is what you meant in your letter when you mentioned Herah and a big change,” Leliana said, her brows raised as a small smile tugged at her lips.

“It’s...certainly not what I was expecting,” Josephine admitted.

“My apologies,” Lavellan said. “The situation was delicate, and I wasn’t sure what could be said in a letter.”

“To be perfectly honest,” Cullen grumbled, “I was expecting her to be...well, bigger. Again.” He glanced at me, and added quietly, “Thank the Maker she’s smaller.”

And suddenly the desire to run and hide was back. I had to dig my nails into my hands to keep from pulling up my hood again in an attempt to hide my blushing face. Why couldn’t I have become taller when I’d changed? Why had I remained so short?

“No need to be rude, Commander,” Josephine said, side-eyeing the man sharply. “Our dear Herah has been through enough already without your comments.”

“Forgive me, I meant no offense,” he said quickly.

“Herah, you haven’t said a word yet. Are you alright?” the ambassador asked, coming around the table to stand by me. She glanced at Lavellan worriedly. “Can she speak?”

“She can, but I believe she’s nervous,” Lavellan said. The elf placed a hand on my shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze before saying, “Herah, it’s alright. Nothing will happen to you.”

Swallowing my nerves, I reached up with trembling hands to slide back my hood and take off my flower crown. The scent of lilacs wafted over me, and I somehow focused on that long enough to speak. Or, well, shout.

“Please don’t kick me out of the Inquisition! I want to stay and help!” My words tumbled together, squashed into one long breath that ended in a room of dead silence. While I’d been speaking, I’d bowed my head in humility. Now, I regretted doing so. I couldn’t see anyone’s expressions, and I wasn’t sure if looking up was a good idea. I could feel my panic levels rising with every silent second that ticked by until, finally, Josephine spoke.

“Why would we...kick you out?”

It took me a moment to realize she hadn’t confirmed my fears. I stood up straight, glancing up at her before looking down at my feet again. “I-In the Graves, my mistakes ended with the deaths of good soldiers. I don’t want that to happen again, and I wouldn’t be able to bear leaving this place without helping the Inquisition reach its goal...”

Cullen and Josephine opened their mouths to speak, but Leliana cut them off. “And what exactly would you do if you stayed?” she asked. “You cannot hunt without your claws, nor use any magic you once had, it seems. Thus, you are useless in your current form.”

Lavellan inhaled sharply at the edge to the spymaster’s voice. “Leliana, you are being too harsh!”

“No, I am being practical,” she said, her voice like ice. “The Inquisition is still lacking the support and finances it truly needs, despite Josephine’s hard work. We cannot afford mistakes like this in the future. If we are seen as incompetent, then all our work is for naught.”

Once again, the room became painfully silent. I could feel the anger rolling off Lavellan in waves, the only heat in the room. Josephine was clutching her writing desk, the quill in her hand a breath away from fluttering to the floor. I felt as though someone had dumped a bucket of ice water on me, chilling me to the bone. I wanted to cry or lash out at Leliana, to breathe fire or scream until the windows shattered, but I had to accept it. She was right. It was all too obvious how useless I was.

Then Cullen coughed to clear his voice, breaking the silence.

“While I can agree that we cannot be seen as incompetent,” he said warily, “I do not think we need to go as far as kicking her out.” He gestured towards me with a gloved hand. “Will this...change be permanent?”

Not trusting myself to speak without sobbing, I simply shook my head. Lavellan, seemingly aware of my mental state, added for me, “Solas is looking for a way to change her back. Knowing him, it should not take him long to find something.”

“Then I see no reason why she cannot stay,” Josephine said curtly, her eyes locked with Leliana’s. The spymaster, clearly outvoted, gave in with a nod.

“Then it’s settled,” Lavellan declared. Her hand settled on my shoulder, squeezing gently. “Skyhold remains your home.”

The kindness in her voice was my undoing. Tears spilled from my eyes before I could stop them, warming my cheeks and the scales upon them. Skyhold was still my home. I wasn’t being kicked out or banished or anything like that. They were letting me stay!

“Th-thank you,” I hiccuped. “Thank you so much!”

“Hush, _lethallan_ ,” she replied. Gently, as if handling a bird, she took the flower crown from my hands and placed it on my head, covering my horns. “Now, I must discuss other matters with my advisors. Will you be alright on your own? Or would you like to rest for a bit? I can bring you up to my room, if you like.”

“I’ll be okay,” I mumbled. I was exhausted, but I still had half a day to get through. No time for sleep yet. “I think talking to Solas might be a good idea.”

“That’s a fine idea. I will meet you later, then.”

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask,” Josephine chimed in, waving her quill at me.

I smiled and nodded, then gave them all a farewell bow before quietly fleeing through the door. Once I had the giant double doors at my back, I heaved an enormous sigh of relief. That had been a complete and utter mess. I’d hardly acted like a proud dragon at all! The only reason I hadn’t run away earlier was because Lavellan had promised nothing would happen to me. And she had been right. I was scared of Leliana now, but I was still living in Skyhold. I wasn’t homeless. I _really_ owed Lavellan for that.

Picking up my previously discarded boots, I hurried down the corridor to the great hall. I hadn’t been lying when I said I wanted to talk to Solas. In my dreams, he had said I was a mage. I needed to know if that still applied.


	32. Sharing the News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Chapter 32, A.K.A. Eternal Dying Whale Noises Because Anxiety" according to my beta reader.

My initial search for Solas proved to be fruitless. He was not in his rotunda, though there were signs he had been in it recently. His travel pack rested against his desk, unopened and slightly dusty from the road. His cloak was flung over the corner of the sofa against the wall, stained in places with mud and in dire need of a good wash. Was he in the library above, looking for books on magic artifacts? There was only one way to find out.

Leaving my own cloak draped over Solas’, I rushed up the stairs to the library as quickly as my bare feet could carry me, slowing once I reached the top step. It was fairly quiet at the moment. Several mages stood at the shelves, too immersed in their books and papers to notice me. A few people standing at the railing turned to look at me, but said nothing as I passed. I avoided their gazes as I scanned the area, looking for Solas’ signature clothes and bald head.

After a few moments of searching, I sighed and turned to leave. The elf obviously wasn’t there. He must have gone somewhere else.

“Leaving so soon, my dear?” a distinctly lilting voice called. I froze on the spot, my shoulders seizing up until they were nearly touching my ears. A glance over my shoulder revealed Dorian Pavus leaning against a nearby bookshelf, half turned towards a slightly off-put Vivienne. Dorian’s sharp grey eyes were trained on me, and a perfectly shaped eyebrow was raised ever so slightly in amusement. Vivienne, on the other hand, was like a marble statue of indifference. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and her gaze was cold enough to kick my heart into overdrive.

It was only because Dorian’s posture was relaxed that I didn’t turn and run. He seemed more curious than anything, and I had to start making introductions anyway, so I stifled the urge to flee and turned to face him.

“H-hello, Dorian,” I mumbled. I could feel my face turning red as I spoke, but I kept going. “I was just looking for Solas, but-”

“He left for the baths a few minutes ago,” the mage replied with a shrug. “And thank goodness, if you ask me. The smell was starting to offend Lady Vivienne here.”

“I wasn’t the one moaning about it, darling,” Vivienne said tartly.

“Oh.” I sighed, letting my shoulders drop in defeat. Well, that explained why I couldn’t find him. I would just have to wait until he returned to speak to him.

“I don’t believe we’ve met before, have we?” Dorian hummed. “You seem familiar, yet I don’t recall seeing your face before.”

“That’s...It’s just because I look different,” I blurted out.

When Dorian’s expression switched from open to confused and Vivienne’s eyes narrowed, I cleared my throat and glanced between the two of them. “I’m Herah.”

For a moment, the air was dead silent between the three of us. I could see Dorian’s eyes darting over me, taking in the scales on my face and hands before filling with the scholarly curiosity he usually kept in check. I forced myself not to flinch when he stepped forward and lifted one of my hands up. His fingers were warm as they glided over the scales on the back of my hand.

“Ah! Absolutely fascinating,” he said. “And how did you manage this, my dear? What sort of magic is behind this change?”

I scratched at the base of my horns, unsure of how to word my answer. “Well...Solas said a Spirit of Change helped me-”

“You mean a demon,” Vivienne scoffed, her voice full of contempt. “You made a deal with a demon.”

“N-no! It wasn’t a demon, I swear!” I insisted. “I’m still a dragon!”

“Hush, Herah, I believe you,” Dorian said. He gave Vivienne a winning smile and whispered, “I doubt you have much to worry about, as far as demons go, dear.”

Vivienne turned her icy gaze on him, but the mage didn’t so much as flinch. He just smiled sweetly until the enchantress turned and walked away without so much as a sound. When she was out of earshot, Dorian turned back to me and shook his head.

“Don’t mind her. You know she doesn’t like anyone.” He smiled wryly, and added, “You might want to avoid her for the time being. Just to be safe.”

“Oh, I plan on it,” I muttered, shivering as a chill crept up my spine. “She’s always made me nervous. Now I’m just plain terrified.”

Dorian chuckled. “Smart dragon. Or, should I say “girl” now?”

“I’d prefer dragon for now, if that’s alright.” I looked down at the hand he was still holding, watching his tan fingers brush over my scales again and again. “Even though I look like this, I’m still an oversized, fire-breathing lizard.”

“True enough,” he said. “So what happened in the Emerald Graves? Josie wouldn’t so much as breathe a word of it to me. Perhaps you can enlighten me?”

“It’s not a nice story,” I mumbled as I slipped my hand out of his. The remaining cuts were no more than fading pink lines on my arms and legs, but they still burned as if they were fresh. Dorian seemed to sense my unease, and offered his arm to me.

“Perhaps we can take a walk?” he asked. When I glanced at the people around us, who were once again staring, he whispered, “Trust me. A walk on the ramparts would do you some good.”

I pondered the idea, torn between politely declining and dragging him off without another word. The ramparts would be a good place to talk; fewer ears to eavesdrop, even on the nice days. And when the wind was strong enough, it could drown out anything.

“I think that sounds nice,” I replied, looping my arm around his.

* * *

The time I spent with Dorian seemed to fly by in the blink of an eye. Arm in arm, we walked along the battlements and simply talked as the sun fell lower and lower in the sky. Well, Dorian did most of the talking, and I was okay with that. He talked about what I had missed in Skyhold. Apparently someone had started leaving out fruit in the tavern, which was attracting flies and confounding Cabot. And then there was an incident with turnips ending up in a fireplace, leaving the lower floors of the fortress smelling like a vegetable stew. They were small things, but it was just what I needed to hear. They distracted me, allowing me to shake off the last of my anxiety without a second thought. It felt good.

“Smiling again already?” Dorian asked, a smug grin on his face. “You should do that more often.”

I laughed and leaned my head on his shoulder, careful not to hook my horns into one of his numerous silver buckles. “I don’t see why I shouldn’t smile. You’re a very entertaining man, Dorian.”

“You should have seen me in my younger years,” he sighed. “I was such a plucky young boy. Too cocky for my own good.”

“You? Cocky? Surely you’re joking,” I replied sarcastically. Dorian laughed and threw his arm around my shoulders, giving me a good squeeze.

“Sarcasm? I didn’t know dragons had it in them!” He chuckled, then added, “Say, are you hungry? The tavern should be serving dinner soon.”

As if answering for me, my stomach let out a rumble that I could have sworn everyone in the courtyard could hear. I hadn’t eaten much of a breakfast that morning out of sheer nervousness, and lunch had been a nibble of jerky. I’d been running on fumes ever since. Food was definitely something I was interested in.

When we reached the shade of Bull’s tower, Dorian led me through the tavern’s rooftop entrance. It wasn’t very late in the day, but the smell of alcohol filled my lungs with every breath. The drinking never stopped in Skyhold. There was always someone coming off duty or in the mood for a pint. Today, the smell of alcohol was thick, mingling with the smell of one of Cabot’s hearty meat stews. My mouth was watering before we reached the first set of stairs.

“Have a seat, Herah,” Dorian said, guiding me to one of the open tables. “I’ll get us some food and drinks.”

I nodded as I sat down, and the altus turned on his heel and sauntered down to the first level, looking completely out of place among the sweaty and tired soldiers below. Truth be told, I stuck out as well. I wasn’t in armor, and the flower crown hiding my horns - while lovely - practically glowed in the dim light. I considered taking it off, but quickly abandoned the idea. During our journey home, Sera had mentioned that my horns made me look kind of like a desire demon. And while I absolutely knew that I wasn’t a demon, other people might not let me explain before jumping to their own conclusions.

“It is better to keep it on.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin as Cole appeared in the seat next to me. His face was hidden by his hat, but I could see the way his hands knotted in his lap, fingers plucking at the loose threads in his clothes. He seemed anxious, if it were possible for spirits to feel that way. He was mumbling something I could barely hear. I sighed, my heart no longer trying to beat its way out of my chest, and leaned against his shoulder.

“Familiar body, like a warm bed in the winter. Safe, yet unsafe. Eyes always watching. I must keep quiet, must not share. Must not risk this home.”

“Hello to you too, Cole,” I whispered.

“Hello, Herah.”

“Are you speaking my thoughts again?”

“I’m sorry.”

Leaning away from him, I stretched my arms above my head until something in my back popped. Then I settled them on the table, propping my head up in one hand. “It’s fine, just...not when others are around, okay?” I offered him a wry smile. “I assume you know I’ll be talking to Lavellan tonight?”

“Yes.” His reply was no more than a whisper, but I heard it all the same. “You are still worried about her reaction, but she will still love you. She would not let anything happen to you.”

“I know. That’s why I’m telling her. One step at a time, right?”

Cole nodded once, a small smile appearing on his face as it disappeared under the brim of his enormous hat.

“Andraste’s knickers, Sparkler, you weren’t pulling my leg after all!”

Surprised by the new voice, I turned away from Cole to see Varric ambling towards me, four tankards in his hands and a grin on his face. Dorian and Blackwall followed closely behind him, each carrying two bowls of what smelled like Flissa’s amazing ram stew. I wanted to grab a bowl and dig in immediately, but my manners kept me from doing so.

“I, uh…hello,” I said quietly, nodding to the two of them. “It’s good to see you both again.”

“You’re more soft-spoken than I thought you’d be. I was expecting you to breathe fire,” Blackwall said jokingly, sliding down the bench on the other side of the table. Varric sat down next to him, trading him a tankard for some stew.

“Yeah, where’s that feistiness you had, Pipsqueak?”

“P-pipsqueak?!” I cried, a little louder than I’d intended. I could feel my cheeks heating up, but I couldn’t help but glare at the dwarf. My glare earned a laugh from him.

“There it is!” he said. “Good to see you too, Pipsqueak.”

Ugh, that nickname. He’d been calling me that since we’d met and it still made me frown. “Can’t I have another nickname?” I asked. “Pipsqueak makes me sound like a mouse!”

“Nah, too late to change it now,” the dwarf said as he pushed a tankard across the table towards me. When I saw the dark liquid sloshing around inside was, it dawned on me I should have asked Dorian for water instead of liquor. Whoops.

“Besides,” he continued, “you used to be the size of a mouse. Not my fault you keep changing.”

“Ah, I had some questions about that,” Dorian chimed in as he slid into the seat next to me, offering me a bowl of stew and a spoon. I glanced to my left, only to realize Cole had already left. Varric took a swig of ale, not even flinching at the burn it must have left in his throat.

“I...guess questions are natural,” I said with a shrug. “What would you like to ask?”

Varric’s questions were similar to the ones Cassandra and Lavellan had asked me four days prior. Was this dragon magic? Was it something dragons could always do? Had I made a pact with a demon? Was the change permanent? How long until I changed back? I could only answer so many of them with yes and no, and when I could no longer answer, I simply shrugged.

By the time their questions were done, I had traded Blackwall my tankard for his bowl and had made a sizeable dent in its contents. He hadn’t touched the entire time, and he’d seemed willing enough to let me have it, so I hadn’t passed up the opportunity. I could have gone for thirds, but then I would have had to walk past The Iron Bull to get to the bar.

The thought of running into Bull and seeing his reaction to me was enough to keep me firmly planted in my chair. I could hear him and the Chargers laughing downstairs and making a general ruckus that the people of Denerim could have heard. In fact, from where I sat, I could see all of the Chargers sitting at their favorite table. Grim was watching Rocky and Skinner play a card game of some kind, and Dalish was laughing with Stitches as the healer worked on one of his poultices. Krem was sitting on his chair, feet on the seat and butt on the back, watching Maryden the Bard tune her lute.

And, of course, I could see Bull sitting in his usual chair, back against the wall and eyes flicking to the door every time it opened. If I looked for more than a second at time, I could make out the bright yellow sunflowers painted on his shoulder brace. Had he painted those himself, or had Krem or one of the other Chargers put them there? I wanted to ask, but…

“Herah? Are you still in there?”

I blinked as Dorian waved a hand in front of my face, my thoughts scattering. “Sorry, I was...sort of lost in thought.”

“Oh, I bet,” Varric said. He had the biggest grin I’d ever seen on his face, like a cat who had gotten into the cream without getting caught. “So have you given the news to everyone? About, y’know, the new look?”

I fumbled for an answer, caught off balance by the seemingly random question. “I, ah, still have a few more people to tell. Let’s see, I’ve told you three, the advisors, Lady Cassandra, Sera, Solas, Madame de Fer, and Cole. That leaves Dagna and-”

“And The Iron Bull,” Varric finished for me, his grin getting impossibly smug. “Any reason why you left him for last?”

“No!” I hissed. “It’s not my fault I ran into you. You just happened to come along when I was spending time with Dorian. And besides, he’s not the last person I need to talk to.”

“That’s fair,” the dwarf said with a shrug. Then he fixed me with a stare, raised and eyebrow, and added, “Are you going to go say hello to the nice qunari? Maybe sometime before the year is over?”

“Be reasonable, Varric,” Blackwall chuckled, sipping his ale. “Give her until the end of next year.”

Then the two of them laughed.

I knew they were joking, that it was just a little teasing, but it was a subject I had been agonizing over since the beginning. My nightmares had been filled with Bull’s face, contorted into disgust and revulsion at what I’d done. Even now, I could feel my anxiety clawing its way up my spine, mingling with the anger brewing in my heart. I’d never been a fan of teasing. It’d been easier to withstand as a dragon, when no one could read my expressions or try to figure out what was on my mind. With a human face, it was harder to hide.

Leaving the last few bites of stew to cool, I stood abruptly from the table and stepped over the bench, careful not to jostle Dorian in the process. When I was free, I turned back to the table and smiled, doing my best to keep it from looking fake. I kept my hands behind my back, hiding the fact that my nails were currently digging bright red crescents into my palms.

“Well, it’s been a delight to have dinner with you three,” I said evenly, “but I think it’s time for me to go. Dorian, thank you for walking with me. We should do it again soon.”

“Are you sure you can’t stay a bit longer?” Dorian asked. “Don’t mind Varric, he’s just a gossip.”

“That’s a laugh, coming from you,” Varric snorted.

“No,” I replied, barely able to keep my breathing even. “I still have a few things to do before night falls. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

I gave them a small bow before spinning and heading for the stairs, fists clenched at my sides as I practically power-walked away. I forced myself not to look at the people around me, watching me with curious eyes. My anxiety was still building, and I needed to focus on calming down again. I couldn’t do it around so many people. I had to get away, to find a nice quiet corner of Skyhold to hide in for a while. I wanted Lavellan to sit with me and talk about her day or whatever she was thinking of. I wanted someone to talk to me until my head quieted down and my chest stopped aching.

“Hey, are you alright?”

I was almost to the door when I felt a hand catch my elbow, stopping me in my tracks. I didn’t need to turn around to know it was Krem. I’d avoided looking at the Chargers when I’d come down the stairs, but I’d seen the way the lieutenant had watched me. He was worried.

“’m fine,” I mumbled, feeling my heart rate spike. “Please let go.”

“Can I at least escort you to your room? Or wherever you’re staying? You shouldn’t-”

“Krem, please,” I said, this time a little firmer, “let go. You mean well, but let go.”

Above our heads, I could hear Varric and Blackwall groan in unison as Dorian hissed, “Good job, you two.”

Krem didn’t seem to notice the interaction, or care. “With all due respect, I-”

“Krem. Let her go.”

Bull’s voice was like a dagger in my heart and a healing spell at the same time. It filled me with such a mix of relief and anxiety to hear him speak that I almost started crying. The tears were already welling up in my eyes when Krem finally released my arm with a quiet apology. I managed to whisper a thank you before I darted out the door.

The minute I was outside, I began my usual techniques to calm myself, breathing as slowly as I could while putting as much distance between me and the tavern as possible. Why did I have to be like this? Why couldn’t I just take a joke and roll with it, like Varric and Dorian? Why did I have to take everything so seriously?

Because I’d been raised in that kind of house, that’s why. My parents had never been the kind of people who joked and teased. They were the serious, ambitious type of people who never learned how to have fun. Or at least, they’d never been like that around me. Not even my brothers had seen them legitimately smile. It had only ever been fake ones. And it had only gotten worse after my pregnancy had come to light. They had been the villains at every turn, trying to mold me into something I wasn’t. Looking back, they seemed more like a nightmare than a reality.

The only one who had ever been honest with me was Aunt Ellen. Not my parents. Not my brothers. It had only ever been my aunt.

As my attack relented, I took shelter in the stables. The mounts shuffled warily as I approached, but didn’t seem too off-put by my sudden appearance. They went back to their food eventually, leaving me to seat myself on a nearby stool and rest my head in my hands.

Ellen had been the only one to tell me to pursue my passions. From the moment I’d met, she had been nothing but supportive. When we’d met face to face in the airport, I had been certain that she would turn out to be like my parents, when in truth, she was nothing like them. She was practical and realistic, but she’d always had a hint of mischievousness in her that made me laugh.

Gods above, I missed her so much. I wanted so much for her to be here now, to tell me that there was a way to fix me and my mistakes. I wanted to know where she was, and what had happened to us after going through the mirror.

“She’d say ‘There’s nothing wrong with you, Maggie.’.”

I laughed despondently, not bothering to look up. It was Cole speaking, of course. By the sound of his voice, he was crouching next to me.

“She would, wouldn’t she? She always told me that it was perfectly alright for me to be myself, that there was nothing wrong with having anxiety.” I sighed and lifted my head from my hands, wiping the tears that were now falling from my eyes. “I miss her so much, Cole. I wish I knew where she was, or if she’s even in this world. I wish I could remember what happened to me after I went through that damned mirror. I wish I could remember...”

Silence fell heavy between us for a minute, broken only by the horses and harts snuffling in their stalls. There were so many things going on inside my head, it felt like I was trying to find a piece of sheet music inside a tornado. I needed to calm things down and sort it all out. But how could I calm down a storm in my head?

“Mud between my toes, warm like bath water but thicker than butter. The smell of her perfume fills my nose, soft and milky and so very much like home. Auntie holds my hand, her face looking so much older than before.”

I stared at Cole, my eyes wide and mouth hanging open. A moment ago, I’d had no recollection of such a memory. But when he spoke, it came to life vividly in my mind’s eye.

_The heat of the swamp, humid and filled with strange new bugs._

_The smell of mud and trees and murky water._

_The feel of my aunt’s hand as she led me through the dense brush._

_“Stay close, my dear. We will be arriving shortly.”_

_“But where are we going?”_

I remembered it so clearly. It was, without a doubt, a memory I’d forgotten.

“Cole...how did you do that?”

The boy shrugged as he picked at a rock partially hidden in the dirt. “There are...gaps, like missing pages in a book, ripped loose by a storm. This memory, it was close enough to reach. The others… they’re somewhere else. I cannot see them.”

I sprang up from the stool and grabbed the spirit boy by the shoulders, trying to keep him from making a hasty exit, should he start feeling inclined towards one. “But how do I get more back? How much black is there? What happened to me?!”

But my words fell on missing ears. In the blink of an eye, Cole was gone, leaving me alone in the stables with the animals. My anxiety had disappeared, only to be replaced by a hundred questions. I wanted my memories back as quickly as possible, but how could I do that? What had triggered it? How could I trigger it again?

In any case, a quick glance at the sky told me that it was just past sunset now. There was a good chance Lavellan was done with her meeting, which meant it was time to come clean to her. She deserved that much. But I had one last place to stop before going up to her room.

* * *

The forge’s fire was surprisingly low when I finally ducked into the undercroft. Soot and ash caked the floor around the fire, but I was able to avoid the worst of it. I really needed to get some nice boots or something.

“Hello!” Dagna called from her worktable. She set down her tools, pausing her work on what looked like a rune, and hopped off her stool to walk towards me. “Did you need something repaired? The forge is cooling for the night, but we should be able to start early tomorrow morning.”

“Oh no, I don’t have anything to repair,” I replied quickly. “I just wanted to come by and say hello. And, uh...also pick something up.”

“Oh?” Dagna glanced towards the nearby weapon racks, then back at me. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve seen you before. Do you know who placed the order?”

“I did, but I didn’t look like this. I’m Herah, the dragon.” I gave the dwarf a grin as I removed my flower crown and bowed at the waist. “It’s good to see you again, Dagna.”

What I expected from Dagna was surprise. What I got was sheer delight and a tidal wave of questions. Some were the same as what the others had asked, though most of them were about magic. Before long, they petered into hypotheses and theories on how dragon magic worked and if such creatures were able to dream. It was amusing to see her acting like such a cute nerd, but I had somewhere to be.

“Dagna, I don’t mean to be rude, but...I still need to pick up that stave I commissioned.”

“Oh, right! Sorry, didn’t mean to get carried away.” The tiny smith practically jumped over to the weapon racks, searching through them until she found the correct stave. Just seeing it from a afar, I knew instantly that it was perfect. The polished obsidian grip wrapped in bear hide. The deadly blue vitrol blade, smooth on one side and serrated on the other. The strings of wooden beads, woven into a spider web-like pattern around the rune of cleansing.

“It’s so beautiful, Dagna,” I whispered, not trusting my voice to stay even. “Lavellan’s going to love it, I just know it!”

“I hope she does. It might not be a masterwork, but it’s one of my best pieces yet,” the smith replied with a chuckle. “Maybe we could work on another one sometime soon? I’ve got some new sketches if you’d like to look them over.”

“That sounds wonderful!” I said, smiling softly. “Somehow, I don’t think I’ll be leaving Skyhold anytime soon.”

“Well, you’re always welcome down here.”

She returned my smile with one of her own, and held out the stave to me. I took it carefully, treating it as if it were made of glass. It wasn’t exactly heavy, but it wasn’t the lightest weapon I’d ever picked up. My arms were sore after just a few minutes of holding it, and I was only trying to keep the blade from scraping against the stone floor. How did the mages manage to use these in combat? It seemed like far too much effort just to cast a spell.

With the staff collected and nothing else to do, I decided it was time to finish the day. I donned my flowers again and bade Dagna goodnight before heading upstairs. I passed silently through the main hall, ducking behind the throne there to avoid the gathering crowd. I was a girl on a mission, and I needed to get past all the strangers unscathed.

However, something made me pause just as I reached the door to the tower, my hand hovering an inch away from it. Could I really do this? Just go up to Lavellan’s room and tell her the complete and utter truth about myself? She deserved to know the truth, but was this the right thing for me to do? There would be no turning back, no way to hide after I opened this can of worms. Things would be changing permanently, and it was possible it wouldn’t be for the better.

Suddenly I could feel someone’s gaze on my back. When I chanced a glance into the hall, I immediately met the sharp eye of The Iron Bull, who was standing with Varric and Dorian near the door to the rotunda. He wasn’t glaring, thank goodness. He was just...watching. And when he realized I’d spotted him, he smiled and gave me a nod. It almost felt like he was cheering me on. Like he knew I needed a little boost before I finally took the verbal plunge. It filled me with a sense of determination that made my chest feel full enough to burst.

With a deep breath and a boost to my confidence, I shoved the door open and hurried up the stairs.

I could do this.

I had to do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from my (nerdy) beta reader: "Seeing The Iron Bull, and knowing one day you will ride the bull … It fills you with DETERMINATION."


	33. What's Past is Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning for this chapter: mentions of childbirth, past trauma, and angst.**  
>  On a side note, I made a blog just for this story: thedragonscalesonatas.tumblr.com! It's pretty small now, but I plan to put any future fics, updates, and images/art related to the story on there. Give it a follow if you'd like to, and check out the cool art people have made for it already!  
> Quick shoutout to Tumblr users rizzajax and onceuponapirate for the beautiful art!! Thank you so much, you two!!

Lavellan’s room was surprisingly warm when I climbed the last of the stairs. There was a fire crackling away in the fireplace, giving the room a comforting orange light. The stone floor was a little chilly, but that disappeared when I stepped onto the plush rug in the middle of the room. The torches along the walls were not lit like I expected them to be. Instead, small blue magelights floated around them, bobbing like fireflies just out of reach.

Most of the magic lights were clustered over Lavellan’s desk, where the Inquisitor herself was diligently writing something down. Evidently, she’d been writing for some time. Her fingers were stained black with ink, and there were several crumpled balls of paper littering the floor around her. Her brow was furrowed as she read the page a few times, her green eyes darting across the words she had written. Then, just as she reached the bottom, the paper was violently crumpled up and tossed away. I didn’t hear it hit the floor.

The elf heaved a tired sigh and sat back in her chair. “Oh Creators, Herah, I loathe the Orlesian nobility so much,” she groaned. Her eyes were closed, but I could see the tiredness in her face. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard them whispering behind my back, calling me “rabbit” and “knife-ear”. It’s agony to act like a good host.” She sighed, then slowly stood up from her chair and walked towards me, kicking a few balls of paper as she went. “Halamshiral is going to be awful, I just know it.”

I frowned, remembering the many conversations I’d overheard in Haven, when the Inquisition had just been starting. So many people had called her those things, those disgusting slurs. She was their Herald, and yet they had treated her so badly. It made my blood boil.

“If I were accompanying you to this “Halamshiral”, I wouldn’t let anyone call you that,” I growled, my hands tightening on the stave’s grip. “I’d make them regret it.”

Lavellan stopped in front of me and placed her hands gently on my shoulders. She was smiling now, but she still looked exhausted. “I appreciate your eagerness to jump to my defense, _lethallan_ , but we must treat those people with respect, not violence. The Inquisition needs their support, not to mention the financial boost they would bring.”

“You sound like Josephine,” I mumbled, slightly disappointed that I couldn’t try setting a few of those outrageous dresses on fire. Lavellan simply laughed and turned towards the fire, settling herself on the couch in front of it. She patted the seat next to her, silently beckoning me to sit down. But before I did that, I had something to give her.

“I, ah...I had this made for you, Lavellan,” I said quickly, my words coming out as more of a jumble than a sentence. As the elf stood once again, I held out the commissioned stave to her. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the floor, I was so nervous. “I-I meant to give this to you before we left for the Emerald Graves, but Dagna needed to do a little more work on it. I...I hope it’s okay.”

Silence fell as Lavellan took the weapon from me, her fingers brushing mine as her hands closed around the grip. She took a few steps away, as if to look at it in better light, then began to spin it end over end in one hand. The sound of clacking beads and the hum of magic filled the air. Lavellan twisted and spun the stave between her hands, the weapon blurring around her until, out of nowhere, she stopped. The blade clicked audibly against the floor as she leaned it against the wall, next to her other staff.

“Herah, it’s beautiful,” she whispered. Her fingers grazed the net of strings woven around the rune, spinning several of the beads with a light tug. “You made this?”

My nerves were going crazy and my hands were shaking, but I was filled with nothing but relief. “No, Dagna did. She’s the genius with a hammer.”

“But you helped her, yes?”

“I...yes.”

Lavellan turned and walked to my side, catching me in a hug before I could say a word. “You are a good friend, Herah. And I am glad to have you here with me.”

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. Whenever we were close like this, I felt the overwhelming urge to protect Lavellan. She was family, even if she wasn’t related by blood. And that meant I had to tell her the truth. I had to come clean, or I’d never forgive myself. The lying had gone on long enough.

Pulling away, I forced myself to look the elf in the eyes. I watched as her smile slowly disappeared, replaced by confusion. She opened her mouth to speak, but I shook my head and turned towards the fireplace.

“Lavellan, I...I need to tell you a few things,” I said, swallowing the lump quickly forming in my throat. “Things about me.”

Lavellan sat down on the couch behind us, gently pulling me down to join her. “You can tell me anything, _lethallan_. I won’t tell a soul.”

She didn’t need to say that, but it felt good to hear it. She would keep my secrets. She wanted to keep trusting me, just as I wanted to keep trusting her.

I took a slow, deliberate breath before beginning my story.

“The truth is...I was human before I was a dragon. I was born human, on a planet called Earth, and lived there for twenty-three years as a human.”

I paused, waiting for some kind of interruption. I was fully expecting shouts of confusion, outrage, disgust… However, Lavellan only placed a hand on my back and offered me a patient smile. Somehow, she knew there was more to my story. Her smile was the nudge I needed to keep talking.

“Before all of this, my name was Margaret. M-Maggie for short,” I blurted out, unable to keep myself composed. The memories of Earth I’d tried to lock away came pouring back like water from a tipped bucket, spilling from my mouth as tears fell down my cheeks.

“I have a mother and a father and two brothers,” I continued, “but I haven’t seen them in six years. They...I was young and dumb back then, and I made a mistake that made them basically disown me.”

Lavellan frowned then, and her hand shifted to gently squeeze my shoulder. “What happened, if I may ask?”

“Well, I was seventeen at the time, and I...got pregnant.”

“I assume you were not trying to become so?”

I nodded. “My boyfriend and I were just having fun. We thought we were safe, but a couple months later the symptoms started to show. We were terrified of being found out. My father...he wasn’t a very nice person. He was strict, and didn’t like surprises or hindrances. So when he found out about the baby, he…he made me give it up.”

I trailed off after that, my voice no longer cooperating as sobs wracked my body. Every word I said was a dagger to my gut, opening up old wounds I thought had long since healed. We were nowhere near a hospital, but I could smell it as if we were there. The memory was too powerful to ignore.

_The stench of cleaning chemicals, the too-crisp sheets, the stupid gown they’d put me in; everything was too precise, too carefully placed. I hated it. I wanted to go home and hide away in my room, to pretend that it wasn’t my due date and that I still had a few months to go. I would have given anything to have a few more months with him._

_When the contractions started, everything fell apart. The medication made sure I didn’t feel any physical pain, but I screamed as if they were ripping my heart out. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want any of this. I refused to hold my brothers’ hands. I didn’t want anyone touching me._

_Then it was over. Through the pounding in my head, I heard a small, thin wail coming from the foot of the bed. I tried to reach for it, wanting nothing more than to hold my child, but the doctor grunted something to the nearest nurse. She left the room shortly after that, pushing a cart with a small, crying bundle out into the hall._

_As the rest of the nurses cleaned me up, I looked over at my brothers, who were sitting in the chairs next to me. I could barely see them through the tears in my eyes, but I could see the look on their faces. Pity. Sadness._

_“What was it?” I croaked._

_They didn’t answer. I glared at them, watching as they refused to meet my gaze._

_“What. Was. It.”_

_After a moment’s hesitation, Logan answered._

_“It was a boy,” he mumbled. My glare lost it’s heat, replaced by despair._

_A boy._

_My baby boy._

_Gone forever._

One by one, my senses overloaded until everything felt raw and torn and too real to comprehend. I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my ears, like a crescendo of war drums. I curled in on myself, hugging my knees until I lost the feeling in my toes. When the world inside my head began to spin violently, and I realized I needed to calm down. I tried to take a deep breath, but I couldn’t stop hiccuping or sobbing. Everything felt like agony.

Just when I thought I was going to black out, I felt something warm and a little rough press against my cheek. As I opened my teary eyes, I realized I was no longer sitting up or hugging my knees. Instead, I was leaning over slightly, my cheek pressed to Lavellan’s tunic as her arms settled around me again. I could feel the rise and fall over her chest against my ear, along with the steady beat of her heart. It was enough to pull me back from the edge, to root me firmly in reality. The memories couldn’t hurt me here.

Slowly, my hiccups began to subside, and my sobbing died away until only sniffling remained. My breathing returned to normal as well, which ceased the spinning in my head as air filled my lungs. I mumbled apology after apology, as if saying sorry would somehow make the pain go away.

And while I cried, Lavellan was consoling me, speaking to me in hushed Elven words. I didn’t understand what she was saying, but I was comforted anyway. It allowed me to calm down enough to finish my story.

“I don’t know how I became a dragon. I don’t know how I got to the Storm Coast. I don’t even know where my aunt is. My memories are missing or blocked or something. But ever since I changed, I’ve been seeing...things. Like little bits of bigger pictures.” I winced, realizing how dumb I sounded. And yet, I couldn’t think of a better way to describe it. The things I saw and sensed, they all felt real. If they weren’t memories, then what were they?

“How often have you seen these visions?” Lavellan asked softly.

“Only twice. One happened in the villa, and the other happened just today.”

The elf was silent for a moment, a finger pressed to her lips as she lost herself in thought. I took advantage of the moment and closed my eyes. I could still hear her heartbeat, a soft thudding sound that nearly matched my own. It was a comforting sound that filled me with peace. For a minute, I wished I could have stayed right there forever, wrapped in comfort while the world outside the room disappeared.

“There’s something that bothers me,” Lavellan finally said.

Her voice roused me from the slight doze I’d fallen into, and I had to sit up to keep from falling asleep. “What is it?” I asked.

“The first idea I had was that you managed to shapeshift without knowing how you did it,” she shrugged. “It’s not unheard of. It usually happens to younger mages who don’t yet understand their skills. But shapeshifting does not change one’s blood as well. As far as I know, a person who shifts into a spider does not gain a spider’s blood.”

“So then...how did I do it?” I couldn’t help but sigh. It felt like we were going in circles on the subject.

“Perhaps we could ask that spirit bound to your necklace?” she offered. “It’s the only good lead we have at the moment.”

I nodded, feeling a little less frazzled. Of course, how had I not thought of asking the spirit? It seemed like such an obvious answer. “Solas has my necklace now. Do you think he’s still awake?”

“No, let’s wait until the morning,” Lavellan said. “If it’s alright, I’m more curious about your...what did you call it? Earth?”

I opened my mouth to object to the idea, but immediately snapped it shut. I’d resolved to tell Lavellan everything, and that meant answering any questions she had. I settled back against the arm of the couch, fully facing Lavellan now.

“Ask away.”

* * *

“You have been to your moon?”

“Yes. Well, not me specifically, but many astronauts have.”

“And what exactly do these astronauts do there? Is your moon like our moons?”

“Astronauts… well, I’m not really sure what they do up there, but I always heard about them collecting rock samples and recording their findings. And our moon is sort of like your moons, but Earth’s is farther away.”

“And Earth only has the one?”

“Yes. If we suddenly saw two moons in the sky, I think everyone would start screaming about aliens attacking.”

“...what do you mean, aliens?”

“Uh…”

* * *

“So what exactly are these “cars” you mentioned?”

“They’re like carriages, but made of metal and there are no horses pulling them. Instead, they use this thing called and engine, which is powered by petroleum oil or natural gas.”

“How fast are they? They sound rather cumbersome.”

“Well, how far can you get on a horse in one hour?”

“Hmmm. Perhaps twenty miles or more, depending on the breed and weather conditions.”

“Cars can usually reach as much as of one hundred miles per hour, but most people don’t drive that fast.”

“You can’t be serious! We would be able to travel to the Anderfels within a day!”

“...the Ander-whats?”

* * *

“What of your holidays? Do you have a First Day?”

“I assume that’s the first day of the year, right?”

“Yes. It’s generally a day to visit your neighbors and celebrate the previous year while looking forward to the next.”

“Well, we have New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day. On New Year’s Eve, friends have families get together to celebrate the end of the year and get completely drunk. New Year’s Day is usually spent with a hangover or a list of resolutions.”

“Resolutions?”

“Yeah, things for people to do during the coming year, usually to better themselves. Get in shape, find a better job, clean out the closet, or just be a nicer person in general.”

“Did you ever have one of those?”

“One year I wanted to learn how to play the drums. It didn’t go over well with my parents.”

* * *

“It’s strange. Your world is filled with such odd wonders, and yet you say there is no magic in it?”

“Not as far as I could tell. There were people who claimed to have something like magic, but it’s not like the stuff here in Thedas. And there’s nothing like the Fade, either.”

“Nothing at all? It sounds...cold.”

“Well, it did have one thing that I thought was magical.”

“Oh? What was it?”

“It was called the Aurora Borealis. The Northern Lights. I could see them from my house sometimes, when the sky was clear enough. It looked like a bunch of dancing lights, constantly moving and always changing colors. It was usually a light color, but sometimes it would turn green or purple.”

“It sounds beautiful.”

“I thought it was, too.”

* * *

It was well into the night before Lavellan ran out of questions and I ran out of answers. My mind was a haze of exhaustion, and I could only assume that the elf’s was heading in the same direction. Her movements were sluggish, as if her body had already fallen asleep on her. It was an amusing thought.

“Stay here for the night.”

Turning away from the fire, I glanced over my shoulder to see the elf standing in front of her wardrobe, shedding her tunic in the darkness. I quickly turned back to give her some privacy. It was a tempting offer, and it wasn’t like I had a room of my own to sleep in.

“If you’re sure,” I replied. “I’ll take your couch, if that’s alright.”

A scoff rang out behind me. “Nonsense. There’s more than enough room for us both.”

Had I been more coherent, I would have objected and made some excuse to stay by the fire. I’d slept there as a dragon, so there was no reason why I couldn’t do the same as a human. However, I knew better than to argue with Lavellan. She was right; her bed was big enough for three people to sleep in. Not to mention her couch was as flat as a cot compared to it. I had a better shot at a good night’s sleep if I took her offer.

Ten minutes later, the fire was banked and the two of us were settled comfortably under the sheets. My horns had caused a bit of an issue with one of the pillows, but Lavellan had brushed it off with a laugh and a shrug. I had to lay on my back so the tips of my horns couldn’t gouge the case again, unless I wanted to wake up to a face full of feathers. She’d also been nice enough to loan me one of her sleeping tunics, which was much nicer than sleeping in my only set of clothes.

“I have to ask,” Lavellan said as she rolled over to face me. “Would you be alright with telling the advisors what you told me? About Earth?”

I didn’t answer her right away. The thought of telling Cullen and Josephine about me wasn’t too bad of an idea. Josie was a lovely woman, and Cullen… Well, he was working on it. The one I was worried about was Leliana. Sister Nightingale. The way she had spoken to me earlier that day had scared me half to death, and giving her this information felt like condemning myself. If she knew I’d kept so many things from her, she would never trust me. Had she ever trusted me at all?

“Can I sleep on it?” I whispered.

Lavellan seemed to be expecting this answer. She smiled and nodded, then rolled onto her other side. One by one, the tiny magelights over the bed flickered out until the room was dark. I heaved a quiet sigh as I closed my eyes and let my mind drift away. Decisions could wait until tomorrow. I needed sleep first.

* * *

I awoke early the next morning, just as the first rays of dawn were peeking over the mountains.  I felt surprisingly well rested, considering the few hours I hadn’t tossed and turned. The dreams I’d had seemed more like a haze of colors now that I was awake. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember them.

As carefully as possible, I untangled myself from the sheets and got out of bed. Lavellan was still asleep on the other side of the bed, her chest rising and falling with every breath she took. She looked so peaceful without the burden of being the Inquisitor on her shoulders. She needed a day to sleep in.

Getting dressed in silence wasn’t too difficult, but writing proved to be the bane of my existence. I had no idea how to write with a quill. I’d never worked with one before, and the sound of it scratching against paper was like nails on a chalkboard. It took me a good five minutes to scribble down a simple “Gone for a morning walk.” without snapping the damned feather in half.

With the note placed on Lavellan’s desk and my clothes in order, I made my way downstairs into the main hall of the fortress. It was strangely quiet without all the usual people loitering about. I was used to the dull roar of a dozen conversations at once, not the lack of them. Still, it wasn’t an unpleasant change.

I shivered as I ducked through the garden, towards the stairs to the ramparts. The mountain air was crisp, with just enough of a bite to make my nose hurt. Despite the lack of snow on ground, it was still winter in Thedas. Snow would be falling soon, though the natural heating that kept Skyhold warm would most likely melt it the second it touched the ground. I could only hope it would hold off until I got my hands on some decent shoes. Until then, I was barefoot and enjoying it.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t taking this walk for fun. I needed some time to clear my head and think, and walking always helped me do it. Lavellan’s question from last night burned in my mind, as if it were branded onto the back of my eyelids.

_“Would you be alright with telling the advisors what you told me? About Earth?”_

The same issues I’d thought of last night immediately came to mind. Would the three of them believe me? What would happen if they didn’t? I couldn’t help but think Leliana would try to kill me, or at least make my life hell. I’d overheard her talking to Lavellan once, when one of her agents had betrayed her. She had wanted to kill the man outright, yet somehow Lavellan had convinced her otherwise. And while I hadn’t technically betrayed anyone, I hadn’t exactly told them the truth either. There was no guarantee they’d accept any kind of apology I made, or that Leliana wouldn’t try to have me killed in my sleep.

Then there was the issue with my memory. In some way I couldn’t remember, I’d been transported from Earth to Thedas and had turned into a dragon. The fragments I could remember were only that; fragments. Parts of a seemingly three thousand piece puzzle with no box to go off of and several hundred pieces missing.

Ugh, this was all such a headache. Being human was making a mess of everything. If only I could change back. But that would just mean more running. It was obvious what I had to do. Of course, that didn’t mean I had to like it.

The sun was just beginning to rise as I reached the ramparts. A yawn escaped me as I stretched lazily, followed by a grunt as something popped in my back. I still had plenty of time before people started getting up for the day. I could do just about anything I wanted until then.

A shout rang out from the courtyard below, startling me. I glanced over the stone half-wall, curious as to who had cried out. I should have known immediately who it was. I was standing on the ramparts just above the training dummies. There were only seven people who would be in that area at that time of day.

The Iron Bull and The Chargers. They were hanging around the sparring ring below, watching Grim and Skinner trade blows.

Instantly, my plans for the rest of the morning were set. After my actions last night, I needed to apologize and properly introduce myself. Especially to The Bull.

Then again, I could always just throw myself into a closet and never come out again. That sounded good too.

I grunted and slapped myself on the cheek, not hard enough to leave a mark but sharp enough to smart. No, I couldn’t run! I needed to calm down and focus. Bull wasn’t the kind of guy to make a girl feel bad about herself. Whenever he talked to someone, he was kind and courteous and respectful. He was a sweetheart. It was why I liked him so much.

Good god, I liked him a lot.

Before I could start losing my nerve, I booked it down the nearest set of stairs and into the courtyard. The fight had stopped, and Bull was saying something to Skinner as Rocky tagged in for Grim. Krem was sitting with his back to the tavern wall, using a whetstone to sharpen his blade.

I suddenly felt awkward approaching, as if I was no longer welcome. As a dragon, I would have walked up and plopped down next to Krem to watch the show. But now I wasn’t sure I would be welcome. Would they-

“Ah, it’s you!”

I stifled a yelp as Krem called out to me. He was smiling at me, showing me his usual half-cocked grin, though it disappeared the moment he looked me in the eyes. A spark of recognition appeared on his face, and he stumbled to his feet in his haste to get to me. I briefly entertained the idea of turning and running.

“You were in the tavern last night. Are you...feeling better now?” he asked. His voice was courteous, and I could feel the concern rolling off of him in waves. I felt a slight blush creep into my cheeks, and I couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at my lips.

“Yes, thank you,” I said quietly. “I-I’m sorry you had to see me like that.”

“No, I’m sorry I grabbed you. I shouldn’t have done that.” Carefully, he reached forward and took one of my hands in his. His glove was surprisingly warm, though that was probably because my hands were freezing. It was a little comforting, and it gave me a small emotional boost.

“It’s alright, Krem, I know you were worried,” I replied. “It wasn’t the way I wanted to reintroduce myself, but… Well, better late than never.”

“Reintroduce?” Krem asked. “Have we met before? I’m fairly certain I would remember a girl with…” He paused, and I looked up to see him looking at me curiously. “Are those scales on your cheeks?”

Dorian had asked me the same question before, so I didn’t hesitate in replying. “Yes. I don’t know why I still have them, but yes. They’re scales. But before you ask more questions…” Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I looked Krem straight in the eyes and gave him a grin. “I’m Herah. It’s good to see you again, Krem.”

In the span of a few seconds, Krem’s expression changed from curiosity to surprise, and then on to pure confusion. “Herah?!”

“What about Herah?” Bull called from the ring. Krem - apparently at a loss for words - turned me towards Bull by my shoulders and motioned towards me, as if saying “THIS”.

The other Chargers didn’t seem to quite understand what Krem was pantomiming, but Bull took one look at me and grinned. And when I say “grinned”, I mean he gave me a sly, full-blown smile that made my insides turn into a swarm of embarrassed butterflies. My face, previously a bright shade of pink, was now a smarting shade of red, and the urge to run I’d felt earlier returned full-force.

Gods above, why did Bull have to be so damn handsome?!

“Well shit, is that really you, Herah?” the qunari asked as he stepped towards me.

I started to knot my hands in front of me, suddenly unable to make eye contact with anyone. “Y-yeah! I, uh...things happened in the Graves, and, uh…” I lifted a hand to my cheek to scratch at the scales there. “Well, I look human now.”

By now the other Chargers had ambled over and had given me a look over. I could feel their gazes move over me, but I didn’t feel scrutinized like I had with the advisors. With the Chargers, I felt nothing but open curiosity. I could see it in their faces, too. They weren’t judging me or trying to decide what to do with me. The care I saw in their eyes was enough to make a hard lump form in my throat.

“No wonder we didn’t see you riding in with the Inquisitor! You’re a bit smaller than usual,” Rocky guffawed as he clapped me soundly on the back.

“Hey, I’m not that small!” I shot back, narrowing my eyes at the dwarf. Rocky shrugged, but I could see the mirth in his eyes. He was enjoying this too much.

“Look at that, Pipsqueak. You’ve lost your tail,” Skinner hummed.

I whirled around and tried to size her up, but I was half a head shorter than her. “Don’t call me Pipsqueak!”

“You have to admit, you do squeak a little bit now,” Dalish chimed in.

I turned on the blonde with a whimper. “Not you too, Dalish! I thought we were friends!” The Chargers simply laughed in response.

Despite their obvious teasing, I didn’t feel the same hostility I’d felt when Varric had teased me in the tavern. Last night, I hadn’t known if the Chargers would still like me and accept me. Now that I knew they were still my friends, I felt as if a huge weight had lifted from my back. I straightened up a little more as a bubble of confidence began growing in my chest. I felt warm and safe, and even comfortable. This was where I wanted to be. It felt so good to be here, to know that my friends welcomed me with open arms. I could handle Vivienne’s disdain, Leliana’s dagger-like gaze, and all the teasing in the world.

When the questions were done and the Chargers returned to their sparring, I stole a glance at Bull. This caused my confidence to be quickly overshadowed by the butterflies in my stomach again. He was leaning on the sparring ring fence, his expression a mask of amusement. I couldn’t read anything beyond it. He was too good at hiding things, while I was an open book.

He must have seen noticed my glance, because before I knew it he was walking towards me. The others didn’t pay him any attention, but to me it was like a comet was headed straight for me. I had to remind myself to breathe when he stopped in front of me, hands on his adorably-pudgy hips. When I craned my neck to look up at him, I realized he was still wearing that heart-melting grin I loved so much.

“Good to see you again, Herah. I’m glad you’re in one piece,” he said as he placed a hand on my shoulder. His voice was no louder than a whisper, but the gravelly sound had my knees ready to buckle.

“I-it’s really nice to see you, too, Bull. S-sorry I worried you,” I stammered, feeling my face heat up. Good god, I was a mess. I was a totally mess around him and I needed professional help. There was no way my body language wasn’t screaming _I AM INTO YOU_ , and there was no way he couldn’t see it.

“No apology needed. I know you can handle yourself.” He raised an eyebrow, the smugness factor in his expression spiking. “Come by the tavern tonight. Drinks will be on me.”

As his thumb lazily brushed my collarbone, I was reminded that he was strong enough to pick me up and throw me a few hundred meters. It sent a thrill through my body, and I couldn’t help but wonder why exactly I was more attracted to the qunari than scared of him.

And yet, he simply smiled at me, gave my shoulder a pat, and walked back towards the ring to watch Dalish and Skinner trade acrobatic blows. As he walked, my eyes immediately moved to muscles of his back, which I took a moment to appreciate with a quiet sigh.

“You’ve got it bad,” Krem said. He had appeared next to me, and was giving me a sympathetic smile. I couldn’t help but sigh again.

“Oh, I know it, Krem. I know.”


	34. A Morning of Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, readers! Sorry for the lack of on-time updates, the last few weeks have been absolute hell for me at school. I don't want to make you guys wait another month for an update, I feel so bad. I hope you all like this chapter, and that you can forgive the long wait.

With a spring in my step and my head filled with thoughts of The Iron Bull, I returned to Lavellan’s quarters. My worries about acceptance had vanished, leaving me in a dreamy mood that borderlined on blissful. Lavellan, ever observant, didn’t need to guess about who I’d spoken to. She could tell from the grin on my face.

However, I wasn’t able to daydream for long.

While I’d been out and about yesterday, Lavellan and Josephine had come up with a list of things I would need until I returned to my dragon form. This list included extra clothes, armor, and a weapon - which I would need training in. I would also be needing a room to stay in. However, Lavellan was unable to help me find one, as she needed to continue writing the letters she had put off the previous night. Josephine graciously took her place.

“Skyhold is a large place, so you should still have plenty of empty rooms available,” the Antivan woman said as we entered her office. She immediately sat in the chair behind her desk, the picture of professionalism as she leafed through a stack of papers in front of her. She was a proverbial ray of sunshine, despite it still being such an early hour. Nothing but smiles and friendly gestures. “Would you prefer a room tucked away? Or perhaps one a little more out in the open?”

I hummed, unsure of where I wanted to go. On the one hand, I wanted to stay close to Lavellan, or at least close to someone I knew. I was aware of the looks many people had shot me yesterday. They hadn’t seemed too malicious, but the attention had made me nervous. I didn’t like the idea of isolation.

On the other hand, I had lived in near-isolation on Earth and I wasn’t sure how to live with neighbors. What I wanted was a room that was close to nature. The gardens seemed like my best bet.

“Are there any rooms near the gardens?” I asked. “I mean, if there aren’t, then I can pick another room. I’m just…” When I trailed off, Josephine looked at me curiously, a delicate eyebrow raised. I clasped my hands behind my back and looked at the floor. “If it’s, you know...not too much trouble. Nature is something I’m used to.”

The diplomat, looking up from her papers, smiled warmly at me. “It is no trouble, Herah, I assure you. Though I am not sure we have any empty rooms there. Perhaps…” Her eyes darted down the page in front of her, only to pause and flit to me. She seemed to have found something.

“How do you feel about the northwest tower?”

I had to take a moment to process her words.

A tower? A whole tower? To myself? It sounded way too good to be true.

When I told her as much, she giggled. “Oh come now, it’s a wonderful idea. It will have plenty of space, and it is located a short walk from the gardens. Not to mention a little romantic.” Her expression turned wistful as her mind wandered. “It sounds like an old fairytale. A dragon living in a tower, protecting its castle and the princess inside, ever vigilant against attacks.”

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. She was right, it did sound like a fairytale. But was it really alright for me to take the tower? Sure, Cullen and Bull had their own towers, and the mages had the northern tower, but I was just one small girl. Did I really need that much space? Would I still need it if I turned back into a dragon?

“Are you sure the Inquisition isn’t using it?” I asked.

Josephine nodded. “If it was in use, I wouldn’t have offered it,” she replied smoothly.

She had a point. It was an empty room with plenty of space. It was close to the gardens, and I wouldn’t have any neighbors close enough to make me feel penned in. The only one I would have for a neighbor would be...The Iron Bull.

“I’ll take it,” I blurted out. Josephine nodded with a smile and began scribbling down notes on her papers. “Wonderful! I’ll see to it the staff begins cleaning it out. They should be able to move a bed in for you by late evening.”

“Thank you, Josephine,” I said.

She inclined her head, accepting my thanks. “You are most welcome, Herah. And please, call me Josie. Now, ah, we still have a few things to attend to.”

“We do?”

“Oh yes,” she said. “I’ll need to make note of your measurements to find you suitable clothes and armor. We may also need to make you a gown for Halamshiral, should the Empress wish you to still attend.”

I blanched as the woman stood from her desk and withdrew a white cord with several knots in it. It was a very old-school tape measure. Shit, she was serious.

I wasn’t sure I could handle Halamshiral. From what I’d heard Josie say about it, it sounded terrifying. “Are you sure it wouldn’t be better for me to just...stay in Skyhold?” I stuttered, backing up a step.

Josie closed the distance between us easily.

“We don’t have much of a choice at this point,” she said. “Word may have spread already that the Inquisition’s dragon is attending. Should you not make an appearance, the court may brand us liars. Hold your arms out, please.”

I did as I was told, and kept silent as the ambassador made her notes. “Of course, with you looking human now, there may be those who will not believe you are what you claim to be.”

“I suppose I can’t exactly prove it, can I?” I muttered.

“Precisely.” Josie paused her measurements, her eyes lighting up with an idea. “Perhaps we could teach you a few techniques to protect yourself.”

“Protect myself? Like, self defense?”

Josie shook her head, sighing as she wrote down a few more things. “Not quite. I’m talking about The Great Game. Orlais is nothing but politics, and everything is measured for weakness. An expression, a gesture, a choice; they are all vital to surviving such an event with your reputation, or the Inquisition’s, intact.”

I grimaced, suddenly feeling as if about fifty pounds had landed squarely on my spine. I had to take a moment to breathe, or I would end up falling over.

“A-are you sure you want me there? I don’t think I’ll do very well at that party.”

“Nonsense! We will have to find you a sort of tutor for this. Perhaps Vivienne would be willing.”

“I will teach her.”

Startled, the ambassador and I turned to see Leliana standing in the doorway, her hood up and casting an eerie shadow across her face. Josie, probably used to the spymaster’s ability to pop up anywhere, simply smiled and her colleague and finished noting my measurements.

“Are you sure, Leliana? You are busy enough with your network. I can find someone else to teach her.”

“We hardly have time to search, Josie,” Leliana said with a shake of her head. “The ball is in less than two weeks. Her training should begin as soon as possible if she is to accompany us.”

Josie hummed, her brow creasing as she considered her options. I, on the other hand, was ready to flee the room and lock myself in Lavellan’s wardrobe. The prospect of Leliana teaching me anything was terrifying. I was still scared she was going to plant a knife in my back or throw me in the dungeons! I would have taken a fight with demons or templars or giant spiders over spending time with Leliana. Suffice to say, she intimidated the hell out of me.

“I suppose you are right,” Josie admitted after a moment. “If anyone can teach her on such short notice, you can.”

“Leave it to me,” Leliana replied with a smile. Then her gaze turned to me, and I felt the air between us chill. “Herah, you will meet me in the rookery later this afternoon. We will begin your lessons immediately.”

“R-right,” I muttered.

When Leliana’s blue eyes narrowed at me, I choked and immediately added, “Yes, ma’am!” This seemed to placate her. She dismissed me with a wave of her hand, and I took that moment to walk as steadily as possible from the room. The moment the door closed behind me, I let out a huge sigh.

“The things I do for love,” I muttered.

With the dread of Leliana’s lessons looming over me like a storm cloud, I made a promise to myself that I would enjoy the rest of my day. I needed to distract myself, and I had an idea how to do it.

I wanted to see if I still had my dragon skills.

Ducking through the open doorway, I emerged in the main hall. There were more people out and about now; civilians, mages, and nobles clustered every few feet. Some of them chatted amiably with each other, while others appeared to be in lost in their thoughts as they waited to meet with Josie. The atmosphere was calm and serene, as if we weren’t all fighting a war against a would-be god. If I closed my eyes, I could almost forget about all that.

I brushed thoughts of Corypheus and his demon army from my head, not willing to let my mood drop any lower. If I got depressed, I would end up back in Lavellan’s room in an attempt to sleep the day away. I had a bad habit of wallowing in my sadness when I got depressed enough. Thinking about all the responsibilities the Inquisition had riding on its success…

I discreetly pinched the underside of my arm, wincing at the sharp sensation. No, I couldn’t afford to think about that. I needed to stay positive if I was going to get anything done today. Magic was the number one priority right now.

I reached my destination quickly. Solas’ rotunda was as empty as yesterday, save for the elf himself. He was seated at his desk, his eyes focused on a large leatherbound tome in front of him. There was a stack of four more unopened books to his left, as well as two on his right. With a hum, Solas closed his current book, set it on the right-hand stack, and plucked a book from the left-hand pile. But before he could open it, he glanced up and spotted me.

“Good morning, Herah,” he called. I smiled as I walked over to him.

“Good morning, Solas. Are you busy?”

Solas’ tapped his long fingers against the cover of the book. Its title was written in a language I didn’t recognize. “At the moment, I am continuing my research on your pendant. I have yet to find anything substantial, if you are wondering.”

“Oh no, I’m not asking about that!” I said quickly. “I wasn’t expecting you to find anything so quickly. I actually had a question about magic.”

“Oh? Ask away.”

“Well, you said before that I might have magic. I want to know for sure, and I want to figure out how to use it.”

Solas chuckled and stood from his desk. “I take it you are not the type to sit idly by while the world moves around you?”

“I used to be,” I said as I lowered my eyes. Once, I’d been perfectly willing to watch the world spin on without me. It had felt like a blessing, not having to worry about problems I would encounter. I would sit in my little cabin alone, playing my cello or searching the internet for new songs to play, not a care in the world. Everything had been so calm back then, and I had been content.

However, I no longer had the luxury of keeping my distance from the world. I had people to protect now. A reason to put one foot in front of the other. Sitting around and waiting for something to happen was no longer a possible option.

Solas, with his uncanny way of reading faces, seemed to understand. His touch was careful; a gently-placed a hand on my back to steer me towards the rotunda’s exit. “I have some time. If you wish to learn about your gift, I will give you some assistance. Though we must do so outside.”

“Thank you, Solas,” I murmured. He smiled.

“Do not thank me just yet."

* * *

My training began shortly afterwards in the upper courtyard, just outside the tavern. Solas disappeared for a moment, only to reappear with one of the Inquisition’s extra staves in hand.

“You will be needing one of your own in the future,” he said as he handed it over. “This should suffice for now.”

I studied the staff for a moment, taking in its details. It was a fairly simple weapon. The handle was a long piece of solid oak, decorated with a few bands of iron near the bottom. The top had several small vine-like branches curled around a white palm-sized crystal. It felt extremely balanced for such a long item, and I couldn’t help smiling as I tapped the butt of it against the ground.

“So what’s first? Fire spells? Ice? Or maybe a barrier?”

Solas chuckled, but shook his head. “Your enthusiasm is admirable, but you must master something else before you attempt to draw on your magic.”

“I do? What is it?”

“Meditation.” The elf sat down in the grass and crossed his legs, his hands resting on his knees. “You must find your connection and work to understand it first. It is a tool, just like any other.”

When he didn’t say anything else, I sighed and sat down next to him, placing my staff next to his. This felt like a waste of time. I had other things to do! I still didn’t have any well-fitting boots. I needed to talk to Lavellan about that, or maybe Josie or the quartermaster. I still had armor to find too, which meant talking to Dagna and Harritt. Something to look forward to. And I wanted to see if I could find any new books on dragons. Dorian had gotten more than a few shipments of new tomes. There had to be something about giant flying lizards in one of those books.

“Herah,” Solas murmured, “try to calm your thoughts.”

“R-right. Sorry,” I replied stiffly, suddenly aware of just how loud my mind was. I began taking deep breaths, acting as if I were dealing with a panic attack. Slow inhales followed by slow exhales. I needed peace of mind. All my nagging worries could be put aside for the moment. A clear mind was my goal.

After a while, an odd sort of peace seemed to envelope me. I could feel the breeze grazing my arms, stirring the fine hairs there. I could feel the warmth of the sun on my cheeks and the softness of the grass tickling my ankles. Distantly, I could hear the chatter of people in the courtyard below, the chirping of birds in the trees around us. I could hear the tavern as well, and its boisterous crowd just past its closed windows. For the first time in a very long time, I didn’t feel like I was being pulled apart at the seams.

Solas must have noticed me relax, because he began to speak again. “That’s it, clear your mind. Feel the thrum of your body, the depth and pace of your breathing. Focus on the feeling of your heartbeat, how it slows and quickens with each breath. Then try to feel further, the subtle sensations of mana moving through your body, flowing from the core of your chest, outwards through your body and into the earth and air around you, then back into you. Feel the cycle as your soul touches the world around you, and the world touches back.”

At his bidding, I turned my attention towards myself. I could feel every dull bruise and old cut on my body faintly, as though I hadn’t quite healed all the way. My body had recovered surprisingly well after my ordeal in the Graves. I’d expected to have gauze on my arms and legs for a good while.

However, all the aches and pains were nothing compared to the strange fire I felt inside me. At first, it was a small thing. A winking star in an endless sky of black. Then, as I watched it, it grew exponentially until it was a fist-sized blaze of violet-tinged light. It seemed to swirl inside my chest, like a small tornado surrounding my heart. I inhaled and the light filled my lungs, making them expand until it was almost painful. I exhaled sharply, almost a cough, and the light drained away immediately. The amount that remained inside me was slightly smaller now.

Suddenly a chill washed over me, and I shivered involuntarily.

“Herah,” Solas said sharply, “open your eyes.”

I did so, and was greeted with a surprising sight. The ground before me was charred black, shaped almost like a cone. It widened the farther it got from me, and stopped abruptly at six or seven feet. A shimmering barrier was keeping the fire from spreading, and a gesture from Solas caused a layer of frost to coat what remained of the grass.

“When I told you to look within yourself,” the elf continued, his expression slightly amused, “I did not expect you to try and use it so quickly.”

I felt the color drain from my face.

“I...I used magic?”

“You did. I watched you do it myself.” He gave me a half-smile. “It seems you can still breathe fire, should you wish it.”

For a moment, all I could feel was a terrible excitement. I’d used magic! I had absolutely and undeniably used magic! Suddenly, I felt like I could take on anything in the world and come out on top. It would take a lot of hard work and dedication to master this power, but I was more than willing to do it. It was such a nostalgic feeling. I hadn’t experienced this desire to learn since picking up my first cello.

And yet, the longer I lingered on it, the stranger I began to feel. I...had experienced this more than once. Yes, there had been another time. Another desire to learn everything and anything about something. Yet somehow, I couldn’t place it. It was like a word on the tip of my tongue, like something I couldn’t quite put into words. What was it? What couldn’t I remember?

“I will admit, I was expecting a more...energetic response,” Solas remarked. His words brought me out of my thoughts, and I pressed my fingertips to my temples out of habit.

“I’m sorry, Solas. I just…” I trailed off into a sigh and a frown. “I _am_ excited, but I feel really weird all of a sudden.”

The elf’s head tilted slightly. “Would you like to stop?”

I quickly shook my head, nowhere near ready to call it quits. Memory or not, I wanted to learn how to use magic. I could power through this deja vu. “No! Can we continue? What’s the next step?”

Solas regarded me carefully for a moment, watching me for signs of strain. When he seemed satisfied, his hands returned to his knees and he straightened his back slightly.

“Before you attempt a spell, you must first learn how to draw on your mana without pulling too much at once.” He held out a hand, and a small magelight appeared, floating just above his palm. Then, with a flick of his wrist, it dispersed into the air. “Do you think you can do that?”

Inhaling deeply, I settled my hands on my knees again and squared my shoulders. “Yes.”

* * *

Much to my surprise, my lessons in magic ended with me feeling tired yet content. I’d proved to have a decent measure of control over my mana, and had spent a large chunk of the time making the tiny floating lights with as little energy as possible.

When my mana was exhausted, Solas called the lesson to a close. I wanted to ask him why I couldn’t just drink a lyrium potion to get more mana, but the memory of its sour-yet-earthy taste was enough to silence me. It was nearing lunch time anyway, and my stomach was starting to sound like a bear coming out of hibernation.

Bidding farewell to Solas, I stepped around the charred grass in front of me and ducked into the tavern. The smell of alcohol and cooking meat greeted me the second I stepped over the threshold, making my stomach rumble again. A mix of soldiers and civilians sat at a few tables, but the place was surprisingly empty. No doubt many of Skyhold’s inhabitants didn’t feel like drinking just yet. The seats would likely be filled by dinner time.

I ducked around the patrons, doing my best not to bump into anyone as I made my way towards Cabot. He was in his usual place behind the bar, a glass and washcloth in his hands. I hadn’t had much interaction with the dwarf before. He seemed nice enough at first glance, and he seemed to enjoy running Skyhold’s tavern. I crossed my fingers and hoped he wouldn’t kick me out after last night’s events.

“What can I get you, miss?” the dwarf asked as I hopped onto one of the empty barstools.

“Water, please. And some of whatever you’ve got cooking, if it’s not too much trouble,” I said quietly. Was that how people talked in bars? I’d never been to one before, so I had no idea if I was being polite or just plain timid.

Cabot, to my surprise, smiled and winked at me as he set down his glass. “Can do, miss. Good to know you’re alright after yesterday.”

I could feel my cheeks heating up from embarrassment. “Y-yes, I’m okay. Just needed some fresher air, is all.”

“Well, I don’t blame you. Once the drinking starts, it can get pretty stuffy in here.”

I nodded mutely, not really knowing what else to say. Cabot seemed to see this, and smiled before heading through the door behind the bar. I turned in my seat, my eyes wandering as I waited for food. There wasn’t much going on at the moment. It was quiet, aside from the notes drifting from Maryden. The bard was sitting by the fire, her fingers deftly moving the tuning pegs in the scroll of the lute. The notes were quiet, but they pulled sharply at my heart, over and over until each string was in tune.

Then, when her instrument was resettled, the bard began to play.

“Nightingale's eyes~ What secret lies in their worth?” she sang. “Raven's tears they cry, but all the while they softly lie and spy on you…”

Gods above, how I missed playing music. Just hearing a song was enough to make me long for my cello. Hell, I would have taken any kind of instrument. My fingers itched where they rested on my knees, nails digging into the soft fabric of my breeches. I wanted nothing more than to find another lute and join her song, despite not knowing it at all. I just wanted to play a song. To feel the solid burn of thin strings under my fingertips. To feel the hum of each low note deep in my chest, like a second heartbeat.

And yet, there were several good reasons why I couldn’t allow myself to play. Had I truly been a dragon, there was no way I’d know how to play any kind of instrument. It wouldn’t make any sense. If anything, it would cause nothing but doubt. It would force me to explain just how I knew things I couldn’t possibly know, and I didn’t want that. I didn’t need another reason for Leliana to look at me with those impossibly sharp eyes. I had no choice if I wanted to keep my secrets.

“Not a fan of the song?”

I bit back a shriek as The Iron Bull spoke. I chanced a glance up at him, only to immediately avert my eyes. He was standing a few feet away, watching me with a smile on his face. Somehow, I’d missed him getting up from his chair and walking over, which surprised me greatly. How had I not heard him?! The heavy footsteps should have given him away!

“I-it’s not that,” I stammered. “I love music a lot, it’s just…” My words trailed off as I tried to think of a reason for my moody expression. When I failed, my shoulders slumped visibly. “It seems like a sad song.”

“You could always request a different one?”

I shook my head slightly, a smile tugging at my lips. “Nah, it’s still a good one. It would be rude to interrupt.”

Bull didn’t seem to have a reply for that, and I wasn’t expecting one. We watched Maryden play in a comfortable, song-filled silence until Cabot returned with a small meat pie and a large mug of water. I spun around in my seat and took a moment to appreciate the food. Fresh out of the oven, the pie looked almost too good to eat. My stomach let out an appreciative rumble as I grabbed the fork off the plate. I didn’t want to wolf it down, but damn was I hungry.

However, before I could dig in, Bull chuckled and started walking back towards his seat. “Come sit with us, Herah,” he called back, a half-smile on his face. “It’ll be fun.”

Caught completely off guard, I nearly choked on my own saliva. I had to cough a few times before I could breathe properly, but by then my face was a smarting shade of pink. I didn’t know what he meant by “fun”, but the thought of eating lunch with Bull and the Chargers was...kind of nice.

Grabbing my tankard of water, I wandered over to the alcove the mercenary band had claimed. Most of the Chargers were caught up in a card game, something that Varric had called Wicked Grace. The only ones not playing were Bull and Krem. The former was returning to his chair, still holding my meat pie. The latter was sitting up on the back of his chair, a bundle of tan fabric in his hands. He held a thin metal needle in his ungloved hand, connected to the fabric by an arm’s length of pale white thread.

“You know how to sew, Krem?” I asked. Bull returned my pie to me, but I found myself distracted. The pie had to cool a little anyway.

The lieutenant looked up from the bundle of pink fabric in his hands, a grin on his face. “Sure. All of us do, to some extent. It’s vital to know how to mend your clothes on the fly.” He wound the thread around the needle several times, then pulled the needle through to knot it. “It’s fun to make other things, too.”

“What other things can you make?”

He shrugged. “Dolls, some clothes. Just little things from scraps we’ve found here and there.” A wry smile appeared on his face as he nodded towards Bull. “Tried to make Bull a cloak once. Big lug got it caught on his horns the next day.”

Bull snorted into his tankard. “That was the wind’s fault, not mine.” In response, Krem just laughed and rolled his eyes.

I watched the man work while I ate my food, utterly fascinated as he turned his work inside out. It appeared to be some kind of nug about the size of a small dog. It had a couple of brown spots on its back, and little floppy paws. It’s eyes were buttons made of a dark wood.

“Oh Krem, it’s so cute!” I cooed. The urge to grab it and hug it was almost too much to ignore. I stuffed another mouthful of meat pie into my mouth to keep myself busy.

One of Krem’s eyebrows lifted, and he glanced at me briefly before he dug a hand into a bag sitting between his feet. He drew out a handful of cotton fluff, and began stuffing the small doll. “You think so? You sure it doesn’t look like prey?”

I huffed angrily, my lips pulling into a small pout. “I’ll have you know I’ve made a point of never eating nugs! I’ve always thought they were too cute to eat.”

A chorus of snorts and scoffs erupted from the table as the rest of the Chargers, still playing their card game, joined in the conversation.

“A dragon thinking nugs are cute?” Dalish echoed. “It almost sounds like one of Varric’s bad jokes.”

Stitches’ eyes flitted to me before returning to his cards. “Never expected to hear that.”

“Those things? Cute? Absolutely not,” Skinner muttered. “They smell.”

“Nugs are sweet. At least when they let you get close enough,” I replied. I remembered the nugs I’d seen in the dwarven ruins beneath Crestwood. They had approached me openly and curiously, unlike their surface brethren who fled once they caught my scent. They had seemed so painfully innocent.

“I think being human’s gone to your head already, Pipsqueak,” Rocky snickered, his face half hidden by his cards. “If it weren’t for those horns and scales, I’d think you were as human as Krem or Stitches.”

Grim, thank goodness, just grunted and tossed a few more coins onto the table. I never thought I’d be happy to know a man of few words.

“Well, I kind of like how I am now. Maybe not the human-looking part, but I like thinking the way I do.” I finished off my meat pie and traded it for the glass of water. “I like having friends, not burning villages and devouring livestock.”

The Chargers seemed to like that; they laughed and gave me nods of approval. The conversation died down as they returned to their activities, their moods a little lighter now. I felt content to just sit there and relax with them. Perhaps, once I didn’t have so many lessons weighing me down, I’d ask Krem to teach me how to sew. It would be nice to make my own clothes in the future, or at least figure out how to customize them. But that would be a long way off.

“Herah.”

I looked up sharply, meeting the gaze of The Iron Bull. He was staring at me, the smile on his face surprisingly open and friendly. It make butterflies stir up a storm in my stomach, and I couldn’t stop myself from sitting up a little straighter under his attention.

“Bull?”

“I like the way you are, too,” he said smoothly. Then, after a beat, his expression shifted into something impossibly flirtatious. “Especially with those scales, I wonder how much of you is covered in them. What do you say we find out together some time?”

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe or blink or look away from the damn qunari. I could feel his eyes moving over my body, and goosebumps rippled over every inch of my skin. I had to bite my lip to keep from making a noise. My heart was pounding in my ears, rattling my brain around until all I could focus on was the way Bull’s smile made my chest ache. I felt like I was completely naked in front of him, and I honestly couldn’t say the idea wasn’t tempting.

“Uh, Herah?” Bull looked down at my hands, breaking our locked gazes and whatever spell he’d had over me. “You, uh, might want to put the water down.”

Barely able to think, I turned what little attention I had left to my lap. The water left inside the tankard was bubbling rapidly as if I’d left it on a stove burner, but the container itself was cool against my fingers.

It took me a moment to realize that the water was in fact boiling, and that I was handling hot metal and wood without a lick of protection. When I did figure it out, I immediately dropped it next to Bull’s tankard and looked at my hands. Not a blister or a burn mark in sight. Not even a slight reddening of the skin. I was perfectly fine.

“Well,” Bull chuckled, “that was quite the _steamy_ situation.”

I was suddenly torn between running away or making puns right back at him. I wanted to joke with him, laugh with him, tell him he was cute and funny and infuriatingly handsome all at the same time. He was nothing but trouble, but I wanted that kind of trouble almost as much as I wanted to play my cello again. My heart felt as if it had been burned instead of my hands. Trying to take calming breaths resulted in tiny wisps of fire emerging from my mouth. I stopped that out of fear of setting the building on fire.

However, instead of telling Bull my feelings outright, I settled for acting like an idiot. With a bright red face and a sputtered goodbye, I made an anxiety-fueled retreat straight out the tavern door, raising dust clouds in my wake.

I made it as far as the castle foyer before the anxiety subsided. My heart stopped hammering in my ears and my brain stopped rattling like a pair of maracas. Eventually I could hear the world around me again; birds in the trees outside, the crackle of Varric’s fireplace, the dull murmur of people loitering around the hall. They were comforting sounds that steadily filled me with contentment. After a few beats, I let out a sigh I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

“Oh my god,” I grumbled as I hid my face in my hands. “I am an awful mess at everything.”


	35. An Afternoon of Intrigue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't sure I'd be able to make my deadline this week, I was 90% certain I'd be too dead to write. Final projects were due this week, and I was floundering to get my shit together. But I muscled through it, and just in time for Sunday! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

As I trudged up the stairs to Leliana’s floor of the rotunda, my thoughts constantly shifted between terror and despair. My stomach was doing somersaults. I wanted to go to back and talk more with Bull, or at least sit with him and pretend I hadn’t just run away from him like an idiot. The last thing I wanted to do was deal with Leliana and her “lessons”.

In the short time I’d walked from the tavern to the main hall, my imagination had run wild with the terrible things she might put me through. I wouldn’t have been surprised if the spymaster ended up threatening my entire life out of me before throwing me in the dungeons. I had to remind myself several times along the way that Leliana was not, in fact, going to try and interrogate me. She was going to teach me about the tool I would need to survive Halamshiral: courtly etiquette.

I’d never been a fan of formal events on Earth. The parties my parents had brought me to were elegant affairs hosted by their friends and coworkers in art galleries, hotels ballrooms, and other expensive venues. There’d usually been some kind of music, ranging from a string quartet to a well-dressed DJ behind a mixing table. The events were always boring, though. With no other kids around my age, I’d spent hours leaning against a wall or sitting at a table in the back of the room, playing games on my phone until my parents were satisfied with the party.

The only ones that hadn’t been a pain were my cello recitals. Up until my pregnancy, they had been fun events where I had showed off my skills to prospective colleges. My classmates had showed up sometimes to cheer me on. My mother would attend most of the time, unless she was out of town on business, and sometimes she would be accompanied by my brothers. When Zach and I started dating, he made a point of never missing a concert. For those few hours, I’d been surrounded by support. They had been fun, in spite of their formal nature.

But this wasn’t a recital or a small gathering of my peers. This was a grand ball, hosted by the Empress of Orlais. It was going to be so much bigger than anything I’d ever experienced.

I sighed, my eyes drawn to the top of the stairs. Leliana was somewhere up ahead, waiting for me to arrive. I couldn’t let myself agonize over it any longer. This wasn’t an interrogation, it was a lesson. It was going to happen, and I was going to live through it. I just needed to remember to breathe.

Reaching the top of the stairs, I scanned the room for any sign of the spymaster. I spotted her standing in an alcove across the room. Her back was to me, but I could tell her attention was on the altar that filled the space. I didn’t recognize the statues or the decorations. Religion in Thedas was still a wobbly subject for me. I knew a few basics about the Maker and Andraste, and I could name a few of the Elven gods, thanks to Lavellan. I didn’t know much else.

As I debated about what to do next, Leliana turned and beckoned to me with a twitch of her hand. I had to swallow the growing knot in my throat before stepping forward. By some miracle, I managed to move all the way around the room without tripping once. Small victories.

When I was a few feet away, I paused. Leliana’s eyes were still on the statues, yet I could feel her scrutinizing me. It made me uncomfortable, but I did my best to keep from fidgeting. As much as I hated remembering my past, I knew how to act professional. That did not, however, keep Leliana from intimidating the hell out of me.

“Tell me, Herah,” she said after a long silence, “do dragons have gods?”

Thrown off by the question, I blinked a few times before realizing she was waiting for my answer. “Oh, uh...I’ve never worshipped any. I’m not sure there are any out there.”

“The Old Gods of Tevinter were supposedly dragons. They are the ones the darkspawn corrupt to begin a Blight. The Archdemons.” She gave me a sidelong glance, her steely blue eyes holding neither suspicion or anger. She seemed calmer than ever. It seemed eerie.

“They sound mortal, just like any other creature,” I replied, nervousness coloring my voice. “If they were gods like your Maker, wouldn’t they be incorruptible? I did not think gods could die.”

“One can only wonder.” Leliana’s lips twitched into a wisp of a smile, there one second and gone the next. Then she turned to me and gestured towards her desk. “Come. I have much to teach you and little time to do so.”

I did as she instructed, following her back towards the table by the stairs. While she cleared away some of the papers and bird feathers on its surface, I took a seat on a nearby box and studied my feet. I still had no shoes that fit, so I remained happily barefoot. Somehow, I hadn’t noticed the small scales peppering the tops of them and around my ankles. They glinted in the torchlight, turning gold when the light hit them just right. They were...kind of pretty.

“Herah, please focus.”

My attention snapped back to Leliana, who was now seated across from me, her desk now clear of clutter. I turned towards her and straightened my back, trying to will some semblance of confidence into my posture. I didn’t want to shrink away. I wanted to show her that I could do this, despite my anxiety and lack of court knowledge.

“The Great Game has always been a part of Orlais’ history,” she explained. “Countless nobles, large and small, have spent their entire lives playing it. Some have flourished, while others have lost everything. It is an unpleasant business for those who are unfamiliar with it. While I do not have the time to explain exactly how to play it, I must at least make sure you know how to act while in you are within the public eye. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said automatically. She nodded, a ghost of a smile on her face.

“Good. We will begin with titles and how to address each level of nobility.”

* * *

A few hours later, Leliana called the lesson to a close. I was dealing with a growing headache in my temples by that point. I was grateful when one of her scouts interrupted us with a bundle of letters. Though my relief didn’t last after I saw the grim look on his face. He was bringing bad news.

“Your room should be prepared by now,” the spymaster said as I got up to leave. “You should ask Josie for your key.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said quietly. “Will we be meeting tomorrow, too?”

“I’ll let you know. For now, you are dismissed. I will send for you, should the need arise.”

And with that, I was free to go. I quickly made myself scarce by heading down the stairs and into the library.

I had the evening to myself to do whatever I wished. I could finally try the Skyhold baths, or go wander around the garden. Or I could just explore the castle. I still hadn’t seen everything in it. I was curious what was down the stairs by Josie’s office. But first, I had to see Josie herself and get the key to my new room. Or rather, my new tower.

My thoughts came to an abrupt halt as a book flopped into my path, landing spine-up with its pages bent beneath it. I stooped to pick it up, only to have another come flying at me. I picked them both up and turned towards the person throwing the books, fulling intending to tell them to stop. I was surprised to find it was Dorian tossing the old tomes around, a scowl on his face as he tugged a book from its shelf and rifled through its pages.

Not wanting to surprise him, I cleared my throat softly. He snapped the book he was holding shut and glanced at me. His scowl disappeared, replaced by his usual suave smile.

“Ah, there you are, Herah. I was wondering when you’d come down.”

I smiled, but it felt a bit more exasperated than happy. My headache was still “Hello to you too, Dorian.”

“How did your meeting with Lady Nightingale go?” he asked. “You’re in one piece, so I assume it went fairly well.”

“True enough,” I replied. I touched my fingers to my temple, trying to relieve some of the pressure. “I’m already sick of Orlais, though. There are far too many titles to remember.”

Dorian offered me a knowing smile. “They _are_ a rather pompous crowd. I completely understand the headache. Though I do hope you will be able to enjoy Halamshiral. It’s a lovely place, despite the company you’ll have.”

“I’d like to see it, but at the same time I’d rather hide somewhere until the ordeal is over.” I stepped into the mage’s alcove and leaned against one of the bookcases, my eyes closing as the smell of old paper washed over me. “Things were easier as a dragon.”

Dorian seemed to like that comment. “You would rather become an oversized fire-breathing lizard again? But being human is such a delight!”

I snorted before I could stop myself. “Oh yes, it’s wonderful. I can speak now, yet I feel more suffocated than ever. The rules of this world are so much different than…”

I trailed off awkwardly, suddenly realizing I was about to say ‘Earth’. I swallowed the word and pursed my lips to keep it in. Somehow, I’d caught myself from stepping on a verbal landmine.

Thankfully, Dorian had turned back to his books, so he hadn’t seen my expression. Of course, that didn’t stop him from talking.

“A bit different from the world of dragons, I suppose?” he offered. I nodded quickly and, after placing the books at my feet, pressed my fingers against my temples and sighed.

“It’s all just...it’s a lot to take in at once. And I’ll have to keep going to these lessons until the night of that damned ball. Not to mention magic lessons with Solas,” I groaned and pressed harder, trying to push back my headache. “There’s just so much going on in my head right now, I feel like I’m-”

Suddenly a pair of hands were covering mine, drawing them away from my pounding temples. I opened my eyes, not realizing I had closed them, only to meet Dorian’s gaze. His grey eyes were sympathetic, yet I felt a twinge of guilt in my stomach. I was being a downer by burdening him with my thoughts.

“I think you need to take your mind off of learning for a while,” he said softly. “Where were you headed before you stopped here? The tavern?”

I shook my head. “Leliana said Josie might have finished getting my room ready by now. I was going to go ask if I could get the key.”

“Then let us be off!” Dorian said firmly. He tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow and led me away from the alcove before I could protest, though I couldn’t really bring myself to do so. The mage was too nice to say no to. He had been going about his own business, yet he’d dropped it just to keep my company. It was a kind gesture.

As we stepped out into the main hall of Skyhold, a thought occurred to me. “Dorian, why did you ask if I was heading to the tavern?”

“Oh? Did I say that?” he asked, his voice sounding strangely light. I narrowed my eyes at him, and tightened my grip on his arm.

“Yes, I’m sure you said it.”

“Hmm. I might have said something of the sort.”

“Any reason why you mentioned that place in particular?”

We were steps away from Josie’s office when Dorian slowed to a halt. Tucked away in the small hallway, we were hidden from the prying eyes of the main hall. Our conversation wouldn’t be overheard.

“I asked because I’ve seen the way you look at The Iron Bull,” he said, his voice an amused whisper.

I wanted to glare at him, to tell him it wasn’t his business who I liked, but it was pointless to deny it to him. The protests died in my throat. “...it’s that obvious, isn’t it?”

“Perhaps not to those who aren’t paying attention, but I make a point of looking out for my friends.” The mage patted my shoulder with a sigh. “When we were in the tavern last night, you couldn’t stop glancing down at him. You got distracted every time you heard his voice. You’re turning red now, just from me talking about him.”

I pressed my hands to my cheeks, instantly realizing how hot they felt. “ _So?_ He’s a very handsome man. He’s an amazing fighter, and kind of sweet too, in his own weird way. Being around him…”

Dorian arched a perfectly-maintained eyebrow, and a small smile appeared on his face. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were head over heels for the big brute.” When I didn’t answer him and refused to meet his gaze, the mage hummed. “Well, now, what a curious revelation. That definitely explains your reaction to Varric and Blackwall teasing you.”

“Well, now you know. I _do_ like Bull, but...I don’t know what to do!” A wave of hopelessness washed over me, and my shoulders slumped visibly. I hadn’t dealt with feelings like this in years. It all felt too raw, too unfamiliar to act on. I didn’t know if I should shove them away or try and figure them out. The first idea seemed the easiest.

“What you should do is go down to that tavern and tell him what’s on your mind.”

At that, I rolled my eyes. “Oh, like it’s that simple. Don’t tease me, Dorian.”

“My dear, I don’t tease. I advise.” The mage’s smile had morphed into a smug grin. “You know, I don’t think he would mind your being a dragon.”

“It’s not that.” Well, not really. That was part of it, but there were other issues to. I was lying to him, to the entire inner circle save for Solas. But I couldn’t say that to Dorian. So instead, I said the first thing that came into my head: “I wouldn’t even know where to begin with a relationship.”

“You’re putting too much thought into this,” he chided. “Just go up to the lout and ask him questions. See if he’d like to spend time together.” He lifted a hand to his face and twirled the curl of his mustache. “Want to know a secret?”

I perked up a bit, interested in this supposed secret but unsure if I wanted to know what it was. He looked like he was plotting something. “I...guess?”

“I’ve heard from a reliable source that he’s got a weakness for sweets.”

For a moment, I was stunned into silence. I felt as though Dorian had given me a thread of hope to cling to. It was the smallest of details, but it was something I could work with. Maybe I could hunt around Skyhold for something sweet? Or I could make him something, if no one was around. I wasn’t the best cook, and I was certainly going to be rusty, but it was an idea. I just needed a recipe and some ingredients.

“Herah, you seem to be mumbling to yourself. Are you alright?”

I glanced up at Dorian and nodded, fighting back the urge to grin and hug him. “Y-yes, I’m alright. Just thinking.”

“I think plotting might be a better word,” he said.

At that, I grinned. “I suppose you’re right. I owe you for this, Dorian.”

“Think nothing of it, my dear,” he said with a smile and a wave of his hand. “Now, let’s get your key before the sun gets too low. I’d like to challenge our dear Commander to a chess match before dinner. I think I have the perfect strategy to win this time.”

“What strategy is that?”

“Why, cheating, of course. But don’t tell him I said that.”

* * *

Our stop by Josie’s office turned out to be well-timed. The staff had just finished furnishing my room, and the ambassador had been about to leave to try and find me. I took the key from her with a quiet thanks before heading back out into the main hall. Dorian kept close to me until we entered the gardens. When he spotted Cullen playing chess with Solas, he bade me a fond farewell and sauntered over to the two of them. I couldn’t help but think that sometimes the man looked more like a cat than a person. He certainly had the air of one.

Now alone with my thoughts, I ascended the staircase to the ramparts with a hopeful spring in my step. Despite the seriousness of Leliana’s tutoring, today had gone surprisingly well. I was becoming more useful now that I was learning how to use magic, and soon I would be ready to accompany Lavellan to Halamshiral. Not to mention I had a possible way to strike up a conversation with Bull. I just needed to get my hands on some sweets first.

I arrived at my tower moments later, and I couldn’t help but feel a small thrill of excitement race through me. I was getting my own tower with my own furniture! I would have my own private space to sleep, get dressed, and write. And it would be a great place to play music, if I ever got up the courage to ask someone about getting a cello or a lute or whatever instruments were available. It was so exciting!

Unable to keep the grin from my face, I pushed the large metal key into the lock and turned it. It was a little tough, but eventually the lock made a dull clicking sound. I withdrew the key and gently pushed the door open, stepping inside quickly before shutting it behind me.

The tower was better than I’d hoped for. The room was absolutely huge. There was enough floor space for two king-sized beds to fit side by side with plenty of room left over. The cobwebs in the rafters had been brushed away, and the curtains covering the open windows had been pulled back to let the room air out. Overall, the room still smelled a little musty from disuse, but that didn’t matter much to me. This space was entirely my own. I could do whatever I wanted in it. So I started exploring it.

There was a twin-sized bed placed against the northern wall, situated between the two small windows there. The sheets were clean and unwrinkled, and the comforter on top was a patchwork quilt of red and yellow fabrics. It smelled faintly of lemongrass and elfroot.

A bookcase sat on each side of the bed, both empty save for a few books placed on one of the lower shelves. A quick read of their titles revealed them to be books I’d never read before. There was a book on herbal remedies, a book on the different types of dragons that had been discovered in Thedas, as well as several volumes of Varric’s infamous Hard in Hightown series. The first one had a note in it, from the author himself.

_“Sorry about the teasing. No hard feelings, right? Let’s have drinks again. I’ll teach you how to play Wicked Grace. -V”_

I made a mental note to tell Varric thank you.

Turning away from my new books, I noticed a sturdy wooden desk had been placed next to the southern door, its surface freshly polished. There was a bundle of paper sitting on it, kept from blowing away by a small leather journal. Next to them sat a pair of ink pots and a handful of black feather quills. I picked up the journal, replacing it with an ink pot to keep the papers still. There was a note tucked just under the cover from Lavellan.

_“Would you like to try keeping a journal? It’s a good method of memory-keeping. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”_

I smiled softly, immediately understanding Lavellan’s reasoning. Somehow, I had forgotten a part of my past. A journal would be a way for me to make sure I never forgot anything again. I would have to remember to write in it as often as possible.

A simple wardrobe sat in the corner by the desk, standing about as tall as one of the bookcases. Upon opening it, I found a plethora of clothes inside. Tunics and pants filled the drawers, folded neatly and just waiting for me to try them on. There was even a drawer of undergarments. It reminded me that I would need to bathe soon. I was starting to feel fairly disgusting.

The last thing I checked out was the fireplace. Built into the western wall, it was a fairly simple design with a mantle sitting at eye-height. It wasn’t as big as the one in Lavellan’s tower, but it was still a good size. It had been lit sometime earlier in the day; there was a small pile of ashes and charcoal inside of it. A basket of wood sat next to it, waiting for the next fire to be built.

With my inspection complete, I sprawled out on my new bed and yawned. The excitement had worn off quickly, leaving me content and tired. Dinner was still a few hours off. I had some time to myself, and I knew exactly what I wanted to do.

Stripping off my tired old clothes, I tossed them in a heap at the foot of my bed. Wearing nothing but my bra and undies, I crawled underneath the covers. I knew the sheets were cheap cotton, but to me they felt like silk. Just resting in my own bed was amazing.

Sleeping was going to be heaven.

With my energy rapidly draining away, I yawned one more time and curled up on my side, my head resting on one of the fluffy pillows. I felt the familiar tug of sleep in the back of my mind, lulling me to sleep like an old lullaby. Within minutes, I was out.

* * *

When I opened my eyes later that night, the room was dark. I saw the torches had all but gone out in my room, and that the world outside was black as night. The windows were still open, the curtains fluttering in the breeze. The chill from outside had seeped into my bones, making me shiver with every movement. I needed to warm up.

After quickly shutting the windows, I tossed a few logs into the fireplace and looked around for matches. When I realized Thedas probably didn’t have matches, I searched for flint and steel. Finding nothing, I plopped down in front of the fireplace and sighed. I still had one option left, though I was wary to use it.

Inhaling just a little, I pushed just a thread of magic into my lungs. I felt them heat up, briefly chasing the chill from my body, and exhaled towards the logs.

Somehow, it worked. A thin stream of fire shot from my open mouth to the fireplace, mingling with the ashes and wood. For a moment, I wasn’t sure it would work. Then, just as I ran out of breath, the flames took hold. The logs began to crackle, filling the room with a warm orange light. I let out a sigh of relief, releasing the traces of magic left in my lungs into the air. Now I would be warm.

Getting up from my spot in front of the fireplace, I walked to my desk and picked up the journal Lavellan had left for me. It was cool to the touch, the soft leather yielding in my hands. I grabbed a quill and an inkpot as well, and returned to the fireplace.

If this journal was going to be filled with memories, then I needed to start writing. I couldn’t risk forgetting it all again. And I had a fresh memory to add to it.

_17th of Haring, 9:41 Dragon_

_I remembered something tonight. I think I dreamt about my first night in Thedas._

* * *

I don’t know how long I slept. It could have been hours or minutes; I couldn’t tell. But when I did wake up, I quickly realized I was laying on solid stone, my aching body wrapped in my favorite quilt. My mind was filled with a strange buzz, and my skin crawled like I was covered in ants.

I grunted as I pushed myself upright, trying my best to avoid cramping up. My legs were the worst. They felt almost entirely numb, while the rest of my body was nothing but pins and needles. My hands had the worst of it; an odd prickling that started in my shoulders and zigzagged down my arms and into my fingertips. It felt like I had lightning under my skin.

Setting aside the issue of my strange condition, I focused my attention on my surroundings. I was on the floor of some kind of large stone chamber. It was easily as wide as a small house, with a high domed ceiling made of some kind of pale brick. The floor was made of it, too. The color reminded me of limestone, but the smoothness made me think of marble. Part of the wall had collapsed inwards, explaining all the crumbling bricks on the floor around me, and the resulting hole formed a floor-to-ceiling window to the outside world. I could see trees just beyond it, tall and green and odd-looking. When I took a deep breath, I could smell the comforting green smell of life.

Looking around, I realized that I was not - in fact - in Spruce Creek. I was somewhere much warmer and much more humid than South Dakota. Somewhere with a strange ruin and trees that belonged to a warmer climate.

I was somewhere unknown.

Fighting the desire to hide, I began searching my memories for answers. I could remember the waterfall, and finding the mirror with my aunt. Then she’d done something to the mirror, made the surface ripple like water. And then...we’d walked through it. I could remember feeling the glass against my skin, like a wall of ice water. I had come out the other side in some kind of foggy forest. After that, there’d been walking. So much walking that I couldn’t remember arriving at our destination or falling asleep.

I didn’t want to believe my memories. They seemed to ridiculous to be true. However, there was no way for me to deny them. I had walked through a mirror at my aunt’s command. It shouldn’t have been possible.

“So you’ve finally awoken.”

Tearing my eyes away from the hole in the wall, I spotted my aunt walking towards me. She looked better than I remembered. Her eyes were no longer tired like they had been in the truck. They were more vibrant again, and seemed to have regained their usual spark. She strode across the room with purpose, her eyes focused on me. In one hand she held a basket full of odd looking plants. The other hand held an antique lantern with a single flickering light inside it. Just seeing her was enough to calm my nerves significantly.

“Auntie… Where are we?” I croaked.

Ellen took a seat on the toppled pillar next to me, her eyes never once meeting mine as she produced a mortar and pestle from the bag at her hip. She must have taken it from her cabin before we’d left.

“Do not fret. We are safe,” she said soothingly. I watched as she began grinding up a strange looking vine covered in thorns. “How are you feeling? The color in your face has returned.”

I pressed a hand to my cheek as the last of my anxiety drained away. “I feel weird. Like, tingly and stuff, but all over. And my feet are numb.”

Ellen seemed amused by this, as she chuckled under her breath. “Ah, that sort of feeling is natural. We did travel quite the distance. But I’m more curious about your mind.”

“My mind?” I repeated, not quite understanding.

“Yes. Journeys such as ours can do strange things to oneself. Tell me, can you remember how we came to be here?”

“I remember a little. My memories of getting to...wherever this is are a little fuzzy. But I remember the mirror, and the drive to it. And the-”

The hourglass. I pressed a hand to my neck, and shivered as a chill ran through my body. It was gone, no longer hanging just above my cleavage. Had I dropped it somewhere? I had no way of knowing where I had lost it. The chances of me finding it were slim to none! I swallowed what felt like a lump of glass in my throat.

“If you’re wondering about the necklace, it’s right here.”

Ellen lifted a hand to her neck, tugging a silver chain out from under the collar of her shirt. On it hung the hourglass, tarnished but in one piece. I was relieved to see it, but there was a knot of guilt tied around my heart.

“I’m sorry, Auntie,” I murmured, unable to meet her gaze. “I meant to give it to you when I saw you, but I…”

“It slipped your mind, yes?”

I nodded. “I found it the next morning, and… I don’t know why, but I wanted to put it on. I couldn’t stop myself.” Looking back, I’d felt a pull from that necklace; a strange, bone-deep desire to wear it. Almost as if it had been calling out to me.

“You are lucky, child, that I reached you so quickly. Another minute or two and you might not have opened your eyes again.”

I frowned, eyes narrowing at her words. “What do you mean? I had a panic attack, didn’t I? I would have passed out and probably woken up later feeling weak and dealing with a migraine.”

Ellen shook her head as she picked up her mortar and pestle again, returning her attention to her strange-smelling herbs. “What you picked up was an old relic, much like myself. I have collected them for some time, keeping them out of the hands of fools who lack the capacity to use them.”

Another knot of guilt tightened around my heart at her words. It felt like she was talking about me. That’s what it was, wasn’t it? I was a fool. I’d touched something I shouldn’t have touched.

“Now, now, Maggie,” my aunt sighed, “there is no time for faces like that. You must rest and regain your strength. We still have a long journey ahead of us.”

“Still?” I asked. “Where are we going? In fact, where exactly are we?”

Ellen chuckled, her lips pulling into a half smile. She set her work aside again and stood, offering a hand to me. “Let me show you. Just a short walk.”

I took her hand and began to gingerly put weight on each leg. They had regained their feeling a moment before, but I was still waiting for that pins and needles sensation to fill them. Yet, by some miracle, the feeling never came. I managed to get to my feet without wobbling too much, and Aunt Ellen led me over to the opening in the wall.

The ruin and humidity had given me reason to doubt my location. Seeing the world beyond the ruins was jarring. The landscape was no longer dominated by pine trees and grassy hills. Instead, I saw what looked like a jungle. Much of the ground was covered in mud and murky brown water. The trees were tall like the pine trees I knew, but their leaves were huge and bright green instead of tiny bluish needles. Vines grew everywhere, hanging from trees like coils of rope. Long grass covered what little ground was stable enough for it, though it seemed to be battling against the mosses that blanketed any visible tree roots.

“This place is called Thedas, Maggie.”

“Thedas?” I echoed. “I’ve never heard of it before.”

“I would be amazed if you had, dear,” my aunt hummed. “You are in a new world, after all.”

I couldn’t help but laugh a little at that. It certainly did look like a new world. I’d never seen trees that that before, or ruins like the ones we were in. The air felt fresher too, despite the overwhelming smell of mud.

It only took one glance to the sky for me to realize just what my aunt’s words meant.

There were two very large moons above us; one the color of sand, the other a pale baby blue. They loomed overhead, their size dwarfed the moon I was used to seeing. When I lifted a hand, I saw they were too big to hide behind my thumb. In fact, they were too big to hide behind my palm. I could still see them between my fingers.

“Auntie…”

“Like I said, dearie, this is another world we are in. This is Thedas.”

Thedas. The word felt like a bell tolling inside my brain, rattling me around until I was too jumbled up to rationalize things. I could only stare in wonder at the two moons high above me and force myself to take deep, calming breaths.

Good god, I really was in another world.


	36. A Sense of Equality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, I'm alive. Or at least I am physically. Mentally, I think I'm about to keel over. But I got an update done for you guys! I think I rewrote this chapter at least three or four times in the span of a week. I'm sort of satisfied with it, but I'm not willing to miss another deadline. At least now I get to write Halamshiral fun-times.

In the days that followed, my daily routine took a turn for the hectic. My mornings were spent with Solas, who would show me the basics of magic use and how to keep it in control. He also taught me how to do a few basic spells; lighting candles, levitating small items, and even a one-person barrier spell. He said that the key to survival in a battle was not a strong offense, but a reliable defense. Dorian would pop his head over the railing from time to time, offering me hints when I got disgruntled. It seemed magic was a lot more complicated than I’d assumed. It would be a long time before I truly mastered my power.

Once the magic lessons were over, I would spend lunch with Lavellan, listening to her sigh about the slow approach of Halamshiral. She would ask about my memories, but I could never seem to remember anything new. My dreams had been fairly silent since that first memory of Thedas had returned. I wanted to remember more, but I had other things to focus on.

Afternoons were spent with Leliana, of course. My studies of the Great Game and courtly etiquette progressed slowly, yet somehow I managed to retain most of what I was taught. Despite her outward coldness, Leliana was still the kind woman I’d met in Haven. She was strict as hell, but she praised me when I got something right. There was, however, no time to waste. We quickly moved on from reciting noble titles to practicing how to bow correctly. I’d had no idea there was a wrong way to do it.

On the nights I wasn’t bone-tired or sleeping on my feet, I spent my time sitting in my room or in the garden, reading Hard in Hightown by candlelight. Varric’s writing style was...interesting, to say the least. The chapters were short and the phrasing was very to-the-point, but the books had a tension to them that kept me from putting them down. In only a few days, I had devoured half of the series. Varric took it as a good thing and offered me a copy of Tales of the Champions. I finished it in a single evening.

On the fourth day of lessons, the news we’d all been waiting for arrived.

I was sitting with Solas that morning, keeping him company in the rotunda. He was doing research on my pendant while I read a book on magic that Josie had procured for me a couple days ago. Titled “The Lectures of First Enchanter Wenselus”, it was a compendium of knowledge for fledgling mages who had just joined a Circle. It was a valuable resource for me, and I found myself absorbing information like a sponge. Spending the morning on Solas’ couch with the book open in my lap, I felt as though I was back in school, learning about history or science. I loved every minute of it.

My attention was pulled away when Lavellan joined us. As she strode into the rotunda, I could see she was in Inquisitor-mode. Her posture was perfect, and her hands were neatly clasped behind her back. The only outwards sign of emotion was the small smile on her face when she approached me.

“Herah, do you have a moment? Josie and I would like to speak with you.”

I blanched a little, suddenly worried. “I...guess? Did I do something wrong?”

Lavellan shook her head, her smile growing. “Not at all. We’ve received a reply from Grand Duke Gaspard. You will be attending Halamshiral with us.”

The news gave me a mix of excitement and anxiety. Just like that, it was set in stone. I would go to Halamshiral and be a representative of the Inquisition, alongside Lavellan. I would stand among the nobility of Orlais and watch the Empress and the Grand Duke have their peace talks, all while keeping an eye out for the assassins that would be waiting in the wings. We would protect the Empress, or the world would fall to chaos.

The gravity of the situation turned my guts to solid ice.

“Herah?” Lavellan whispered. “Are you well? You’ve lost the color in your face.”

I sucked in a slow breath, taking a moment to calm my mind. It was no good thinking about it like that. That much pressure would just trigger a panic attack.

“I’m fine,” I said quietly. “Just, ah, got a little overwhelmed for a minute.”

Lavellan smiled and plucked the book out of my hands, setting it aside before drawing me to my feet. “It sounds daunting, but I know you can do this. You’ve been working as hard as Josie to make this go smoothly.”

I laughed, a sliver of my good mood returning. “No one but Leliana works as hard as Josie.”

Lavellan smiled and patted my shoulder. “Let’s go. We have several things to discuss, now that we have an answer.”

* * *

Just as Lavellan said, Gaspard’s letter insisted that I still make an appearance at the grand ball. While I didn’t know the exact words he’d used, Lavellan told me he was “thrilled for the opportunity to speak with one of the Maker’s most wondrous creatures.” It sounded like brownnosing to me. Leliana said as much herself, though in much gentler words.

Josie looked at ease with the answer, despite the pressure that seemed to sit heavily on her shoulders. She signed her way through documents, made lists, and created schedules that would keep the Inquisition moving in our absence, all while Leliana gave me and Lavellan an idea of what would happen within the next week.

My magic lessons and etiquette lessons would continue as usual. The only change was that I would be required to attend dancing lessons with Lavellan until we needed to depart. I would learn how to dance alongside the Inquisitor, who would be dancing for business’ sake. My dances would be for a different purpose.

“The nobles are expecting a beast,” Josie explained, “and they no doubt will treat you as such. We plan to crush their expectations by showing them you are just as intelligent as any of them.”

“While you may not play the Grand Game, you are still a vital asset to the Inquisition,” Cullen added. “A dance with a dragon may prove too tempting for a number of nobles to pass up.”

“Which is why I’ve been training you so hard these past few days,” Leliana said. “You’ve done better than expected, and your posture has been improving.” The spymaster’s blue eyes were fixed on me, twinkling with a hint of mischief.

For a moment, I could almost picture Aunt Ellen standing in her place, smiling proudly and telling me _You can do it._ And even though the words were only in my head, the doubts and anxiety I felt vanished in a puff of smoke. I had people who believed in me and teachers who thought I could do well. I needed to try and leash my anxiety, at least until the ball was over. What I needed to do now was focus.

“Alright,” I said. “Please teach me what you can.”

* * *

And just like that, my days began to blur together even more. Mornings with Solas, afternoons with Leliana, and evenings with Lavellan and Josie. Every night, I returned to my rooms exhausted and aching. I didn’t have the strength to lift a book or my quill. I barely managed to strip before crawling under the covers.

My dreams were silent, thank goodness. I wasn’t sure I could handle getting another memory back while my life was in full throttle. I slept soundly through the nights, and every morning I somehow awoke with the energy to get up and work hard.

It wasn’t always work, of course. There were moments when I could enjoy a little relaxing. Dorian was always willing to chat, especially if it was about magic. Sera, with her near-constant desire to cause trouble, tried to rope me into pranking the newest recruits. Varric was happy to chat with me about Garrett and Marian Hawke, and about their adventures in Kirkwall. And Cassandra, in her infinite - if a little intimidating - kindness, allowed me to borrow the first volume of Swords and Shields.

Unfortunately, my focus decayed as the days passed. The desire to find something sweet for The Iron Bull weighed heavily on my mind. I had no idea how to buy anything in Thedas. I’d never had to worry about it. Now that I was living as a human again, I was experiencing a bit of a culture shock. How did currency work in this world? Was there some way I could earn money with the Inquisition? And how could I spend that money without knowing where I could buy sweets? There was no internet to shop on, no TV to watch commercials on, and no phones to call people. The closest thing Thedas had to a phone was a trained crow with a little pouch on its back. How the hell was I supposed to find something sweet?

Before I could come up with any solid ideas, the day arrived; the journey to Halamshiral. Cullen briefed us that morning with the details of the journey.

It would take us four days to reach the Orlesian city and Gaspard’s estates within it. Our group would consist of the entire inner circle as well as the advisors. We would travel on horseback the entire way, moving as quickly as possible to make it there on time. No going out of our way to find a town or wasting precious hours to sleep in an inn; we would camp unless our path lined up with a town. A small regiment of the Inquisition’s best soldiers would accompany us, ready to act the moment they were needed during the event. In addition, Leliana’s scouts would meet us there, having already infiltrated the city to watch for suspicious activity.

And just like that, our trip began.

With a small bag of clothes and supplies packed, along with my journal, I found myself tucked behind Lavellan on her horse, riding towards a war-torn Orlais. The air was frigid and the ground was covered in a thick layer of snow. Winter was ending soon, but it wasn’t giving up without a fight. As we reached the lower paths of the mountain, heavy flakes began to fall, landing wetly on our heads. I was thankful for the heavy wool cloak and scarf I’d been given.

I clung to Lavellan as tightly as my gloves would let me. The wind was already pulling my hair from its braid. My nerves ratcheted up the farther we got from Skyhold until I was practically vibrating in the saddle. I tried to ignore the way I shook, lamely passing it off as being cold, but it was like swimming against the flow of a river. I could only get pulled along for the terror-filled ride as we rode towards the western horizon.

One of the few things that kept me from screaming my fears away was Lavellan talking to me.

“Just remember what Leliana told you,” she said as we set up camp for the first night. “The nobles there are your enemies. Do not trust them with anything.”

It seemed like an obvious thing to say, but it helped keep me calm. Hearing her refer to the nobles as enemies was something Leliana had mentioned in her lessons multiple times. The Great Game was a battle of words, wits, and money. While I had more experience with combat than courtly events, it was still a fight I wanted to win. So I resolved to do only the bare minimum while we were there. I would dance, speak, and curtsey when required, but only that much. I wasn’t prepared to do much else.

* * *

After two days of riding, the mountains eventually changed into snowy plains and low hills. Towns dotted the roads every so often; mostly small hamlets that looked like they’d seen better days. Sometimes we would pass by a group of houses, their occupants having long since abandoned them. I couldn’t bring myself to look at them for long. Leliana had given me a brief history of Orlais during our lessons, and the other companions helped fill me in a bit more as we traveled.

A civil war between Grand Duke Gaspard and Empress Celene had been rocking the country since 9:39. Many cities had been claimed and reclaimed by the opposing sides, leaving the poorer citizens to pick up the pieces while the rich sat safely in their estates.

It was a despicable situation. I wanted to blame it on Gaspard for being greedy, but Leliana had told me there was always more than one side to every dispute. Empress Celene had not been the original heir to the throne; it had been Gaspard. Celene had convinced the Council of Heralds that she would be a better ruler, and they had crowned her instead.

While I had never been a big fan of politics, I could understand Gaspard’s desire for the throne. His title as Grand Duke technically meant he was a prince, and Celene had ripped the royal rug right out from under him. His purpose in life had been snatched away, and he wanted it back.

That did not, however, mean he would be a good ruler. According to Cullen, Gaspard had once been a renowned chevalier, one of the best swordsmen in the country. He was also a bit of a warmonger, to put it lightly. He believed a strong Orlais was a military Orlais, backed by the power of an army. In the back of my mind, I knew that putting him on the throne was a large step towards a war with Fereldan, Nevarra, and any other countries within reach. He wanted expansion, not peace.

That’s not to say Empress Celene wanted peace either. Well, not true peace, anyway. She was content to play the Great Game and host her balls, appealing to the rich masses that the only way to keep their lifestyles secure was to play nice. It sounded better than war.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t fully support Celene. The thought of slaves made me sick to my stomach, and the fact that most of them were elves was even worse. No one deserved to be treated like an object, to be bought and sold on a whim. Everyone deserved to be equal; elves, humans, dwarves, and qunari. Everyone deserved the chance to find their own place in the world. And Celene was doing nothing to change that.

As much as I wanted to share my thoughts with someone, I decided it was better to keep them to myself. I was being foolishly idealistic. I would only be laughed at for voicing them. And besides, a dragon would know nothing of fairness. Dragons were creatures at the top of the food chain, who bowed to no one. Did they have a sense of morality? Could they know the difference between good and bad, right and wrong? Or were those purely human ideas?

Luckily, the constantly changing scenery kept me from focusing too much on the ball.

The land of Orlais, though sometimes bleak, was brand new to me. Everything seemed different than Ferelden. The grass felt courser under my feet, more brittle and longer than the grass of the Hinterlands. The trees were different as well. Ferelden had more coniferous trees, while Orlais seemed to have many more deciduous trees. Their branches were bare at first, but as we headed west, many of them began to sport small buds no bigger than a fingernail. The first of the year was also considered the first day of spring, and Orlais was beginning to show the shift in seasons. I couldn’t wait to see what spring was like in Thedas.

When we arrived at the gates of Halamshiral on the last day of our journey, I was stunned beyond words.

Orlais wasn’t just elegant. It was extravagant. The city was a sea of opulence. Marble walls towered around us, ranging from one to three stories high. Blue and white banners displaying a white mask, the symbol of Orlais, fluttered from the upper walkways. Some walls were painted with rich colors, while others took advantage of the marble’s natural coloring to catch the eye. Columns meticulously carved with historical scenes lined the walkways, telling a story depending on which side of the street one walked on. Statues of lions stood everywhere, from the main square to the rooftops, standing guard like proud watchdogs or roaring at the sky.

The people were no exception. They moved out of our way as we rode past, their beautiful masks hiding most of their features, though they did nothing to hide their eyes. The Orlesians moved languidly with their noses turned up, acting as if their presence was a blessing to the world. We passed dozens of women wearing gowns of silk, men in velvet doublets, and even the occasional child. I couldn’t help but feel extremely underdressed and out of place the farther we rode. It all seemed too beautiful to be true.

Upon closer inspection, the cracks in the city’s mask began to show.

While passing through archway after archway, I began to notice smaller details. Some of the streets looked less clean than others. Garbage cluttered in street gutters, fountains had a heavy stagnant smell, and a few of the walkways were cracked or damaged. Every few minutes, I would see an elf or two dash down a back alley, a wisp of movement in the shadows.

The dissonance became louder the higher we got.

As we followed the road to the walled-in High Quarter, the elevated district where all the nobility stayed, I looked out at the surrounding city and inhaled sharply. Though the main path through the city was paved with cobblestone and marble, the rest of the city consisted of one or two-story buildings made of wood and brick, materials reserved for those in poverty.

What made matters worse was the fact that many of the buildings were black and dilapidated, a sure sign of a fire.

“It happened a year ago, when the elves rebelled.”

I jumped when Lavellan spoke, suddenly realizing she had probably heard me gasp. She glanced back at me, her green eyes sad, before looking towards the city. “I was told the Empress burned the city, thinking it would quell the rebellion that was building.”

I tightened my arms around her waist as a chill washed through me, raising the hair on my arms. “The Empress did that? How could she have thought that was a good idea?”

Lavellan hummed, her voice a low whisper. “Josie said it was because of a rumor. People said she was too lenient on the elves, that she let them get away with too much.” She scoffed, a glimmer of anger in her eyes. “She killed hundreds of my people to keep her court happy. To these shems, elves are only good as slaves. They think they are above us because our ears are pointed.”

“It’s not right,” I whispered. “Is equality such a hard concept to understand?”

“For many, yes.”

We were quiet for a moment, unable or unwilling to say anything else. The sound of hooves on cobblestone filled the air instead, a steady beat that I could feel in my chest. I didn’t envy Lavellan’s position. She had the chance to either keep an Empress or create an Emperor, and neither of the candidates deserved the position. They had their good points, yes, but their flaws seemed huge in comparison. Both had blood on their hands. Neither cared for the elves. It was a lose-lose situation. I couldn’t help but wonder which one was the lesser of two evils.

After a little more riding, we managed to reach Gaspard’s estate within the High Quarter. It was a three-story mansion, with enormous windows and much of the walls painted a soft blue. Snow still covered most of the lawn, but the path leading to the ornate front doors had been cleared. We left our horses and gear with the servants waiting there, informed that our things would be delivered to our rooms immediately. I reluctantly left my small bag behind with Lavellan’s things.

The Grand Duke himself greeted us the moment we stepped inside the mansion, a smile dripping with excess charm sitting on his face. His mask was made of pale gold, with curved eyeholes that made him look perpetually gleeful. He was dressed in half armor; the metal clearly showed under the fur and silks that were draped over his shoulders and across his chest.

So this was Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons.

Out of all of us, Gaspard was especially pleased to see Lavellan. From the moment we arrived, he began making a show of welcoming his “most honored guests” to his humble estate. He was clearly trying to garner favor, and didn’t pay much attention to those of us who didn’t demand it. I was content to let my gaze wander to the house’s decorations while they exchanged pleasantries.

Unlike the fairly simplistic outside of the mansion, the inside was like something out of the French Revolution. The walls were painted with rich colors, contrasting with the bright gold leaf that framed the giant paintings hanging upon them. Every surface was polished to a blinding shine, and many tables were decorated with vases of flowers. The floor was made of marble inlaid with natural veins of some kind of greenish stone, though much of it was covered up by giant plush rugs.

It was all beautiful, but I found myself growing bored after a while. We had been on the road for so long, and I was looking forward to getting one good night’s rest before the big party.

I glanced over at Lavellan, only to realize she and Gaspard were quickly approaching me. Without thinking, I slipped the mental mask Leliana had helped me create into place. With my features schooled into a sort of bored look, I swallowed the lump of nervousness in my throat and forced a smile.

“And this, your highness, is Herah.”

“Ah, the great Dragon of Skyhold,” Gaspard mused. “I have heard many great things about you, my lady. Many mysteries as well.”

Remembering Leliana’s training, I tucked one foot behind the other and bowed slightly at the waist. “And I have heard many impressive things about you, your highness.” Not technically true, but it was good to flatter those in power.

Gaspard chuckled at that. “Such lovely manners. You are a delight.”

“You flatter me, ser.”

His eyes glided over me, leaving me feeling almost slimey. I resisted the urge to shudder.

“Perhaps you might save me a dance tomorrow night?” His smile didn’t quite reach the edge of his mask. “It would be an honor to be the first man to dance with a dragon.”

_Take your honor and shove it up your ass._

The barb appeared on the tip of my tongue, fighting to get out. Forcing it back, I kept my mouth shut and bowed again, trying to maintain my sleepy expression. Then, when Gaspard moved on to one of the other companions, I took a moment to swallow my snark and let out a slow breath. My relief rivaled my disgust; his attention had made my skin crawl. My mouth tasted like sawdust.

Eventually Gaspard took his leave of us, claiming to have a meeting with an important associate of his. He left us in the care of his elven servants, who made short work of showing us to our rooms.

I wasn’t surprised to find out we would each be getting our own room. The house was big enough to have far more bedrooms than necessary. The halls between each room felt endless. What did surprise me was the size of the rooms themselves.

With high ceilings and enormous windows, the bedroom I was given seemed spacious enough to fit an elephant in. The curtains were gauzy and red, giving the room a rosy hue. A huge four-poster bed sat up against the wall to my left, it’s own curtains pulled back to reveal red silk sheets and a number of fluffy pillows.

I felt like I was in a museum or a themed hotel. I missed the rustic simplicity of Skyhold.

I walked to the window, taking a moment to appreciate the view I’d been given. Facing west allowed in plenty of light, which was gradually turning orange as the sun dipped lower and lower in the sky. The grounds one floor below me were made up of slim walkways and well-tended but greenless gardens. Despite the snow on the ground, it was still a beautiful sight. It looked too pristine to be real, like it was a painting meant to look like a window.

For a moment, my mind drifted towards my memories of Earth. I’d only experienced snow a few times during my childhood; a downside of living in California. I could vaguely remember weekends spent at the family cabin when I was little. Sometimes I had built snowmen with my brothers. Other times the three of us had sat inside, hands pressed to the windows, while a snowstorm raged outside. Those memories were all fuzzy and far away, though I could still recall the childish glee of seeing my cloudy handprint on the glass.

My memories of winter in Spruce Creek were much clearer. My first day in that tiny town had been a snowy one. The roads had been transformed overnight, turning from dirty brown to solid white in a few hours. I could recall the utter silence of that forest, as if time itself had frozen. I could also recall pressing my palm to the window of Ellen’s cabin, watching as the glass around it fogged up from the heat.

Caught up in my reminiscing, I didn’t realize I was reaching for the window in front of me until my palm was touching it. I could feel the chill of the outside seeping into my fingers, leeching away their warmth and leaving them as cold as ice. When I pulled the hand away, the cloudy outline - and my somewhat dirty fingerprints - remained on the window. In the back of my mind, I could feel the sight of that handprint burn into my memory.

Three different hands.

Three different worlds.

Three different lives.

Too many unknowns.

A wave of nostalgia crashed over me as I sat down hard on the floor, my knees no longer willing to support my weight. Sprawled out on the expensive rug with my hair haloed out around me, I stared up at the unfamiliar ceiling and sighed.

I was too tired to worry anymore; not about the ball, or my memories, or finding a present for Bull. I was at the end of my rope and was ready to say screw everything. I didn’t want to dance with the Grand Duke or listen to nobles discuss the peace talks. I wanted to go back to Skyhold, and curl up in bed or sit in the tavern or read books in the library. I wanted to go home.

Had it truly been necessary for me to come along?

Why did they need me there?

Was I accompanying the Inquisition as one of its members, or as a glorified pet?

The thought of being an object to show off rankled me fiercely. It had been like that in my parents’ house growing up. My skills had given them something to show off to their friends and coworkers, to prove that they were impressive people and great parents. Looking back, I knew they’d done it for the image it presented; a happy husband and wife, two star football player sons, and a musically-inclined, obedient daughter.

I burned that mental image from my mind the moment it appeared, disgusted that I’d let myself be used like that.

Lavellan was my friend, not my owner or my caretaker. I was not a prize to show off. I was not a vicious creature, tamed by the Herald of Andraste to fight for the Maker. I was not a beast on a leash. To her, I was a human being and a close companion, someone who would help her win the war against Corypheus. I was her friend. We were equals.

Rolling onto my hands and knees, I forced myself to my feet and pulled the curtains closed. The thick red fabric fell heavily across the window, hiding my handprint and blocking out the sunlight in one movement. Then I turned, stripped off my dirty clothes, dumped them at the foot of my bed, and crawled under the silk covers wearing only my underclothes.

There was no use mulling over such a depressing subject now. The ball was tomorrow. The Inquisition would dress up, attend, and protect the Orlesian Empire from Corypheus. Would Celene remain on the throne, or would we help Gaspard reach his goal?

Either way, the peace talks would end tomorrow night.

Whether and Empress or an Emperor sat on the throne depended on our actions.


	37. Wicked Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for all the delays, guys! Here's the next chapter, which will either end up being a two- or a three-parter, depending on how crazy shit gets. Sorry if it ends abruptly, but it was either that or making you guys wait again, and I wasn't willing to do that to you all again. 
> 
> Side note: The Halamshiral uniforms are based off the “Exquisition” mod on the Nexus.
> 
> To keep up with updates and other fic-related things, follow [my TDS blog!](http://thedragonscalesonatas.tumblr.com/)

The next day passed at a snail’s pace, yet I saw it through a haze of weariness.

The fear of the court had died down while I slept, fizzling down into dying embers during an onslaught of dreams during which the ball would end in failure. I awoke just before dawn, feeling hollowed out and listless, as if someone had carved out my insides like a pumpkin. In an attempt to boost my mood, I picked up my copy of Hard in Hightown and did some reading. I was on the final chapter when a servant entered my room, informing me that the others were gathering downstairs in the parlor for breakfast.

Once breakfast had been served and everyone was present, Josephine gave us today’s schedule. We could do whatever we wished for the next few hours, so long as we stayed on the grounds. Once noon passed, we would spend the entirety of the afternoon getting ready for the gala. The gates of the Winter Palace would open after the sun set, giving us at least six hours to bathe, dress, apply makeup, and do anything else necessary to look as presentable as possible. Everything would be approved by either Josie or Leliana, and only then would we be ready to go to the palace.

I mulled over the idea of practicing my magic during my free time. While I knew the craft would take daily dedication, I wasn’t sure I wanted to risk something breaking or catching fire. I couldn’t afford to singe a set of curtains or a priceless tapestry in Skyhold, let alone in the Grand Duke’s estates. He probably wouldn’t appreciate my “diligence”.

So instead, I decided to return to my room to finish my book. Then, once I finished the last chapter and mentally kicked myself for not bringing along the next book, I settled back into bed and dozed for as long as I could. My dreams were quiet; no memories or ominous signs. I simply danced through a sea of fog, practicing each step with a silent determination.

I was surprised, and a little peeved, to find things had changed when I awoke a few hours later.

Despite my request to Josie that no servants wait on me, I was greeted by three of them upon waking, all elves with silver masks like Gaspard’s on their faces. While I had slept, they had somehow brought in a copper tub and had filled it with hot water. They made no move to leave when I sleepily tried to dismiss them, and they made no comment when I begrudgingly shed my clothes and sank into the tub.

My tune changed from grumpy to blissful in a flash. After nothing but bathing in rivers, the hot water felt magnificent. I could feel myself slowly relaxing as the heat worked its way into my tightly-wound muscles, uncoiling months of stress in just ten minutes. When one of them started working on my hair, I just about melted into a puddle of bliss. It almost felt like I was being pampered.

The protesting began again when the other servants interrupted my soak, wielding washrags and what looked like bars of soap. I grumbled at them to go away at first, but the thought of actually being clean since my transformation from dragon to human silenced me. This wasn’t a spa, this was someone else's house. I didn’t have the luxury of time.

So I endured the scrubbing until my skin was bright pink and every inch of me stung from the harsh soap they used on me. Once they were done, they helped me out of the tub and rubbed me down with fluffy towels, their movements gentle and practiced. I still felt raw, but kept my flinching to a minimum. When I was dry, they dressed me in a robe of soft silk, removed the tub, and left me alone with a quiet “good day, my lady”.

In the time it took my hair to dry into a curling mess, Josie entered the room carrying her writing desk and thick bundle of fabric in her arms.

“How are you feeling, Herah?” she asked softly. Her hands fluttered over the package briefly after she set it down on the bed; the only sign of her nerves. “I couldn’t help but notice you seemed distant this morning. I wanted to ask you earlier, but you were asleep. Are you well?”

I scratched absently at the scales on my hand. “I’m alright. Just...a little tired, I suppose. Lots of things to think about.”

“Ah. If you’re worried about the ball, there’s no need to hide it here. You’ve worked so hard to get this far.”

I shook my head. “No, I’m not worried about that. Not anymore. I stopped worrying on the way here.”

Josie regarded me curiously, her brows knitting together as she stepped closer to me. “Then, may I ask what you are thinking about?”

I wanted to tell Josie, to ask her if Lavellan and I were being paraded around like shiny new toys. The desire to speak my mind was growing harder and harder to ignore. I was going to be stifled during the event, so why not let a little of my anxiety bleed away beforehand?

No, it was stupid to ask. Josie had enough to worry about already. I didn’t need to saddle her with my thoughts as well.

“It’s just something silly,” I said, giving her a small smile. “You’ve got other things to worry about right now.”

“Are you certain? If there is something on your mind, I am willing to listen.”

Gods, Josie was such a sweetheart. She was always so kind, like a caring older sister or something. I wanted to sit down with her and tell her everything, to have another person to confide in. Yet I want to unload my issues onto her right before such a stressful event. I could hang on to it for a little longer.

“It’s fine, Josie, don’t worry. I think you have more important things to do than worrying about me.”

Josie looked like she wanted to argue, but she hesitated just long enough for me to change the subject. “So what’s this?” I asked, pointed at the package she had brought in.

The ambassador glanced down at it, then slid it towards me. “Your dress. The dressmaker finished it a few days ago, so I had them send it here to meet us. You should try it on and make sure it fits.”

Tugging lightly on the strings holding it shut, I unfolded the package until its contents were revealed. A bundle of fabric sat inside, folded carefully to avoid wrinkles and creases. I quickly laid it out on the bed to get a better look at it.

It was, as Josie said, a dress. But to me, it looked like something out of a fairytale. It had a basic A-line shape, with a halter neck that would be tied at my nape. The sheer fabric was as red as poppies at the bottom hem, but slowly gradated to orange and yellow the higher it climbed. Underneath that was a layer of gold silk that made it almost glow. A white corset was included, its surface covered in dragons and vines made of shimmering gold embroidery thread.

Without thinking, I begged Josie to help me into it. We still had several hours before the ball, but I wanted to see how it fit. And she, smiling at my excitement, was more than willing to help me out. It took her only a few minutes to lace me into it, and soon I was spinning in place, watching the gold silk shimmer behind the fiery fabric. I hadn’t noticed, but there was more to my dress than I had originally seen. Two long strips of the sheer fabric draped down from the back of my neck and attached to my wrists by two slim bands of gold, their ends fluttering with every movement I made. A gold chain was then added to the mix. It looped around my neck, clasped just above my breasts with an Inquisition brooch, and hung down to my waist before looping around my hips.

It was a simple dress, yet it was utterly exquisite for something made in such a short amount of time. When I tried to thank Josie, she smiled and shook her head.

“You should share your thanks with Lady Vivienne. She was the one to suggest the design, not me.”

I stopped spinning and looked up at Josie, utterly confused. “Vivienne?” I echoed. “But I...I thought she hated me. Or at least didn’t like me.”

Josie shook her head. “I don’t believe it’s as simple as like or dislike. Lady Vivienne has always been aware of how cruel the court can be. As one who has spent years playing the Great Game, she knows how important one’s outer appearances can be, especially at an event like this.”

I retreated into my thoughts for a moment, surprised to find that I wasn’t immediately resentful of the idea. Out of all the people in the Inquisition to help me, I hadn’t expected it to be Vivienne. She had never thought of me as anything more than a beast before, and had looked at me with disdain when I’d become human. While she wasn’t exactly a friend, she did deserve at least a thank you for her help.

“I’ll have to thank her before we leave,” I said quietly.

Josie hummed, though it wasn’t the approving sound I was expecting. When I turned to look at her, her eyes were narrowed and fixed on something over my shoulder. I tried to follow her gaze, but found nothing of interest in the window. I only realized she was looking at my hair when she walked over to me and touched an extremely curly lock. She hummed again, her lips pursed slightly, and clapped her hands twice. Two of the elven servants from earlier reappeared in the doorway, carrying a stool, a hairbrush, and a small mirror. Josie gestured for me to take a seat once the servants had disappeared again. “We don’t have much time left. Let’s get started.”

“Started?” I asked warily, watching her over my shoulder. “What’s left?”

She smiled and turned my head back towards the mirror. “Tell me, Herah,” she said as she gently fluffed my hair. “Would you rather wear your hair up or down?”

Oh, right. Hairstyle. How could I have forgotten that? “I guess up?”

Finally, I got an approving hum. “Very good choice.”

* * *

When the moment arrived for us to leave arrived, the entire group met down in mansion’s foyer to go over last minute details before getting into the carriages. By then, my nerves were making me an absolute wreck again. My mind was no longer exhausted from the journey; it had made a full recovery and seemed hell-bent on making me think about everything that could possibly go wrong.

I was going to trip on my dress and rip it.

I was going to spill my drink on a noble and get chewed out for it.

I was going to fall over trying to curtsy to the empress.

I was going to fuck up the titles and call a duke “your lordship” or a comte “your grace”.

I was going to fuck up so badly the Inquisition would have to be disbanded purely out of shame.

Oh, the possibilities were endless. I was a ticking time bomb of anxiety, and I couldn’t run away and hide to deal with it. I had to stand there and smile and look as if the world weren’t ending inside my head and-

I nearly jumped out of my skin when a soft hand landed on my shoulder. I hadn’t heard Lavellan approach me, but knowing she was right next to me now was enough to settle my nerves just a little.

“Don’t be scared, Herah. You won’t be there alone,” she whispered soothingly. Her green eyes, lined with a dark kohl, seemed to glow as if by magic. “We will all be there. We will get through this night together.”

I sucked in as deep a breath I could, slowly exhaling it as I captured her hands in my own. In spite of her calming words, I could feel the way her fingers trembled against mine. It was terrifying to think that the Inquisitor was scared, yet she was still just a woman, no matter what pedestal the world seemed to put her on. She was one woman saddled with far too many burdens.

The overwhelming desire to make her happy was fierce enough to drive my worries away, at least for the moment. Giving her hands an encouraging squeeze, I looked her in the eyes and softly said, “I may not be powerful or influential like the others, but you...you are my dearest friend. No matter what happens tonight, we’re in this together, _lethallan_.”

For a moment, I thought I saw a glimmer of something in Lavellan’s eyes. Hope? Relief? Pride? I couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

“Do you know what _lethallan_ means, Herah?”

I shook my head. “I don’t, but you’ve called me that several times. The way you say it always makes me feel loved, so…” I stiffened, suddenly worried I’d done something wrong. “Was it alright for me to call you that?”

The elf smiled, her eyes holding nothing but acceptance. “It’s more than fine, Herah. _Lethallan_ roughly translates to kin in Common.”

“Kin?” I echoed. “As in...family?”

“Yes.”

I paused for a minute, my mind processing the idea of having Lavellan become my first Thedosian family member. When it all clicked into place, a feeling of rightness wound around my heart. “Then...I think it’s okay for me to call you that. Because you’ve really become family to me.” I laughed quietly, then leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “I hope I can introduce you to my aunt someday. I think she’d like you.”

Lavellan’s smile widened as she gave my hands one more squeeze. “I look forward to that day. But for now, we have a party to attend and an Empress to save. Are you ready?”

I nodded, feeling more determined than ever before. “Ready.”

* * *

The carriage ride to the Winter Palace wasn’t very long, but it was definitely stuffy. We couldn’t open the windows for fear of letting in cold air and the snow falling outside, so that left us to suffocate for what felt like hours. Sandwiched between Lavellan and Dorian, I focused on breathing steadily to keep my heart from breaking my ribs.

_The court is the enemy._

_The nobles are not to be trusted._

_The only ones you can trust are members of the Inquisition._

Repeating those three sentences over and over in my head proved to be a good way of keeping calm. The more I repeated them, the more I felt like I could successfully make it through the night. We were going into combat. However, instead of weapons we had words, and instead of armor we had elegant clothes.

The Inquisition uniform was a black velvet coat with light gold accents that looked almost silver in the right light. Spirals of embroidered vines and flowers decorated the jacket, and gold silk sash was worn over one shoulder and tied around the waist.

The companions had been given a choice on their clothes. They could either wear the Inquisition uniform or they could wear an approved outfit of their own choice. Blackwall, Sera, Solas, and Cassandra had insisted on wearing the uniform. The ladies didn’t want to wear gowns, and the men preferred to keep things simple. Vivienne had agreed to wear the uniform so long as it wasn’t “utterly barbaric or crudely made”. Varric had begrudgingly accepted the uniform when his request to wear his nicer set of “normal clothes” had been denied. Dorian had lamented his lack of attire, but had relented once he’d heard about the color scheme. The Iron Bull had wanted to go shirtless as usual, but a firm word from Vivienne had him agreeing to wear the uniform instead. Cole had apparently disappeared after Josie had requested he wear one. No one was sure if he would show up to the event at all.

Lavellan’s uniform was slightly different from the original design. Where the regular jacket had embroidery of only gold, hers was both gold and green. She wore two sashes as well - one gold and one deep green - that brought out the color in her eyes. A specially-made brooch was pinned just above her heart. It depicted a wide, fiery eye pierced by a sword; the symbol of the Inquisition.

Personally, I thought we all looked intimidating. If I saw a group of people dressed in matching uniforms like this, looking as serious as we did, I’d have steered clear. Then again, Vivienne said we all looked “charming”, and charming did not equal intimidating in my book.

“We’ve arrived,” Dorian hummed, bringing me out of my thoughts. I leaned forward in my seat, took one look out the tiny window, and felt my jaw hit the floor.

If the city of Halamshiral was considered beautiful, then the Winter Palace was enchanting.

In the light of the moon, the palace looked almost ethereal, like something out of a fairytale. The walls of the lower levels were painted light blue, matching the Orlesian banners fluttering in the wind. Intricate wrought-iron lamps lit the walkway from our carriages to the courtyard and beyond. Guests lingered near the gates, watching us disembark. Their ornate masks glinted in the lamplight, making it impossible to see their eyes. I could feel their gazes on us for a moment, and then they were gone, hurrying into the courtyard to spread word that the Inquisition had arrived.

It was an intimidating place to be, for sure. As we crossed the courtyard to meet the Grand Duke, I began to wonder if I should have ignored Vivienne’s gift and worn the same uniform as the advisors. Lavellan should have been the only one to stand out.

The inside of the palace was an explosion of senses. Everything seemed to glitter and shine, from the immaculate marble floors to the golden lion statues tucked inside their own alcoves. Candles sat unmelting in their sconces, lit by magic instead of real fire. Benches were placed in the space between each alcove, their cushions made of plush blue velvet. Swathes of sapphire blue silk hung between each column, pulled back to give the impression of curtains. The nobles who had already entered watched us enter, their masks hiding everything but their eyes. I instinctively straightened up, squaring my shoulders like Leliana had taught me.

Despite the beauty of it all, the room was stifling at the same time. Some of the people around us made no effort to hide the fact that they were watching us enter. I could hear them whispering to each other, sharing their thoughts on the Inquisition as if we weren’t a few feet away. The air was thick with burning incense, an overly-sweet scent that made my teeth ache. It mixed awfully with the perfumes worn by several of the guests, and I tried to keep my eyes from watering by biting my tongue.

The farther we got into the palace, the more I felt out of place. I was in a sea of nobles and their servants, jockeying for the attention of an empress. The urge to hide in the background surged up inside me, but a hand on my shoulder pushed it away. I looked back to see Leliana smiling serenely down at me, silently telling me that I could handle the situation. That small bit of encouragement was enough to kick my worries away once more, and I returned her smile with a small one of my own.

“When the Marshal of the Court announces you,” she whispered, “walk across the ballroom and stand two paces behind Cullen.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied. The spymaster had told me about this several times during my lessons. I would be announced after Josie, and would be required to stand at attention until the Empress greeted and dismissed us. After that, we would all be free to go wherever we wished until the dancing started.

“It shouldn’t last too long,” she continued. As she spoke, I watched as a rather spiffy looking man in blue approached Lavellan and gestured for her to walk towards the stairs. Our group was split between the stairwells, and the man returned to his place, a large scroll now open on the ornate podium in front of him. Leliana glanced at him, then back at me with a quiet laugh. “Do try to keep a straight face, won’t you?”

I gave her a fraction of a nod, my determination warring against my anxiety. I could do this. It was just walking. I could do walking.

“And now presenting,” the Marshal of the Court called out, his voice surprisingly loud in the ballroom, “Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons!” The Grand Duke - looking positively bored - paused on the landing and gave the room an alarmingly relaxed bow before continuing down the rest of the steps.

“And accompanying him,” the Marshal continued, “Lady Inquisitor Lavellan! Vanquisher of the rebel mages of Ferelden, crusher of the vile apostates of the Mage Underground! Champion of the Blessed Andraste herself.”

As Lavellan made her way down the steps, Varric snorted and rolled his eyes next to me. “This guy writes better fiction than I do.” His joke managed to get a quiet chuckle out of me, which I quickly covered up with a small cough. But from the way he was grinning at me, he knew he’d heard me laugh.

The Marshal spouted off a few more titles for the Inquisitor, then moved on to the rest of us. Cullen, Leliana, and Josie were announced first, with far more titles than necessary, and made their way leisurely across the marble dancefloor without a single mishap. I felt a pang of jealousy that their walk was already over.

“The Lady Herah, Dragon of the Inquisition.”

Despite knowing full well that my turn would be right after Josie’s introduction, I still didn’t feel like I was ready to walk. Yet, I forced myself to put one foot in front of the other and make my way down the steps.

“Smile, dear,” I heard Vivienne whisper softly behind me. “Remember; it’s all for show.”

Keeping that in mind, I stopped on the landing - just like the others -  and curtsied just like Leliana had taught me. I could feel the eyes of every guest in the room on me, but none so more than the Empress herself. When I dared to open my eyes and look at her, I could see her return my curtsey with an almost fond smile on her masked face. With the first greeting over, I carefully descended the rest of the steps and began walking. I kept my eyes glued to Cullen’s back the entire way, especially when the titles started back up again.

“Loyal protector of the Lady Inquisitor, and wielder of Andraste’s Holy Fire.”

I nearly stumbled after hearing that last one. Where the hell had that come from?! Andraste’s Holy Fire? The only kind of fire I had was the kind I’d learned how to use by belching at a tree. The Orlesians sure loved their fancypants titles. I couldn’t wait to go home and have a laugh about it with Varric and Dorian.

The introductions continued until every Inquisition member had been introduced. I made note of several interesting things to talk to the others about later: Cassandra had way too many names and was apparently in line for the Nevarran throne, Vivienne was someone’s mistress, Blackwall had some kind of fancy Grey Warden award, Cole was completely missing (as expected), and Sera was an absolute lunatic for making her introduction into a joke. I had to congratulate her personally on that one.

To absolutely no one’s surprise, Gaspard wasn’t too keen on playing nice with the Empress. Once the last person had crossed the ballroom, he approached Empress Celene and said curtly, “Cousin. My dear sister.”

“Grand Duke,” the Empress replied graciously. “We are always honored when your presence graces our court.”

For a moment, I could understand why Gaspard wasn’t Celene’s fan. Thanks to Leliana’s training, I knew right off that bat that, while she was a lovely woman, Celene wasn’t the type to give her words only one meaning. It was something all of Orlais did, but she was the most powerful player of the Great Game.

“Don’t waste my time with pleasantries, Celene,” Gaspard shot back, his eyes narrowed behind his mask. “We have business to conclude.”

The Empress was unphased by his aggressive tone of voice. She brushed off his words with a well-practiced smile and a gesture towards the Inquisition. “We will meet for the negotiations after we have seen to our other guests.”

Gaspard - somehow satisfied by that response - bowed almost mockingly, whispered a farewell to Lavellan, and headed up the stairs and into the crowd.

By then, Celene had turned back to us, her smile somehow a little brighter than before. “Lady Inquisitor, we welcome you to the Winter Palace.” She paused, turning to motion for the woman behind her to step forward. “Allow me to present our cousin, the Grand Duchess of Lydes, without whom this gathering would never have been possible.”

The Grand Duchess stepped forward and bowed before speaking. “What an unexpected pleasure. I was not aware the Inquisition would be part of our festivities.” She gave Lavellan a half-smile - a smile that sent a shiver up my spine - and stepped back away from the balcony. “We will certainly speak later, Inquisitor.” And with that, she was gone, and my mind was racing to recall any and all information I could remember from my lessons.

Grand Duchess Florianne de Chalons. Orlesian noble, sister to Gaspard. Had the Grand Duke become Emperor of Orlais, she would have become Princess Florianne instead and would still be in line for the throne. However, since she was the Grand Duchess instead, her title was technically “Highness”, and not “Imperial Highness”. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of her personality yet. I could only hope that I wouldn’t have to talk to her tonight. Something about her just didn’t sit right with me. Then again, none of the nobles felt right. They were all hidden away behind their expensive masks.

Eventually, with a smile and a few pretty words, the Empress released us to the party. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do after the introductions, and my anxiety was starting to make a comeback, so I tucked myself against a column and watched the people mingling on the ballroom floor below. Was I really free to wander the palace? I didn’t want to go walking by myself, but it was preferable to my current situation. I could feel the nearest nobles watching me, whispering things they thought I could hear.

_So that’s it? That’s the fearsome beast?_

_It’s rather pitiful as a human._

_For a dragon to mingle willingly with humans is unheard of!_

_Perhaps it lacks the meager intelligence its kin possesses._

_I wonder how the Inquisition managed to tame it._

_The poor, stupid creature._

I sighed, my fingers playing idly with the chain around my neck. Maybe there was a nice corner somewhere where I could look at books or paintings, or maybe a garden? Being outside sounded heavenly. Being anywhere with no people sounded even better.

A hand on my arm startled me out of my thoughts, and I stopped myself just short of elbowing Varric in the jaw. He chuckled and waved away my stuttered apologies.

“You can relax a little, Pipsqueak. The nobles don’t know what to make of us, so we’ll get a little time to ourselves.”

“I’ll try and relax,” I replied quietly. “This place just makes me so damn uncomfortable. There are too many eyes. And they’re talking about me like I can’t hear them.”

“I can’t imagine a dragon would ever get close to something like this,” the dwarf mused. “I make a point of staying away from these things myself. Too many people, too many expectations.”

“Try doing it in a dress.”

“Should’ve gone with the uniform then, sweetheart.” Varric grinned and beckoned to a nearby servant. “It’s more comfortable than a few pieces of silk.”

The servant, and elf wearing a silver mask much like Celene’s, approached the two of us and offered us her tray of glasses. They were filled with a bubbly liquid that looked like champagne. Varric took two and offered one to me, which I accepted with a smile.

“And refuse Madame Vivienne’s freely-given assistance? I may be a beast, but I’m not insane,” I shot back.

Varric’s grin widened. “Smart dragon. Sometimes I’m glad there’s only one of you.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so I sipped my drink instead. It was definitely some kind of champagne, though it was much more floral than expected. It reminded me of fresh-cut roses. An odd flavor, but nothing I couldn’t handle. Then again, I didn’t have much of a stomach for alcohol.

Fortunately, I didn’t have to worry about finishing off the glass. Sera, with her roguish tendencies, appeared at my side and swiped my drink, chugging it in two gulps. She handed the empty glass back to me with a barely stifled belch.

“Eugh, these prissy pigs need better taste in booze,” she grumbled as she leaned against the marble railing.

I left my glass on a nearby table and joined her, waving Varric off as the dwarf wandered into the crowd. “Not loose enough for you, Sera? I assume you’ve got some pranks up your sleeve after that marvelous introduction.”

“Nah, Sister Nightingale made me promise. No pranks tonight.”

I sighed. “I suppose there will be enough mayhem tonight already, won’t there?”

“Yeah.” Sera’s tone was a little glum, but a moment later, something caught her eye and brought a grin to her face. “But I know a different way to have a little fun.”

I hated to admit it, but I was willing to do just about anything to lighten my mood. “You’d better share this idea with me.”

Sera nodded and motioned for me to look out at the dancefloor. “See the old blond biddy in the purple dress? With the diamonds on her fingers?”

When I found the woman in question, Sera leaned in close and whispered in my ear: “Crotch rot.”

It took all of my self control not to vocalize my disgust. I managed to tamp my reaction down to a sputter and a cough. “S-Sera, that’s disgusting!” I hissed. “How in the world would you know that?!”

Sera smiled her smug little smile and hummed. “I’ve got dirt on plenty of nobles. Part of the trade.” She paused, her eyes flitting to the dancefloor briefly before returning to me. “Want to hear another?”

Despite my disgust, this game was by far the most amusing thing I had at the moment. I wasn’t about to let it end just yet. If I could, I would spend as much time as possible poking fun at the nobles who would turn their noses up at me. Maybe this night would get better after a little more harmless mischief.

I grinned and resettled against the railing, my gaze locked with Sera's.

“Absolutely. Tell me everything you know.” 


	38. Wicked Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey! An update? On time?! Holy moly! :D
> 
> Side note: I have a picture of Herah's dress~! [Check it out!](http://thedragonscalesonatas.tumblr.com/post/144477259284/when-rabbits-create-herahs-dress-at)

After playing Sera’s game for as long as possible, I decided it was time to move on to other things. The ballroom was getting too stuffy for my liking, and there were other places to explore. So I bid farewell to Sera and headed for the next set of rooms.

During my wanderings, I heard a variety of interesting things. The royal wing of the palace was closed off for the evening due to repairs. According to the whispers of more than one noble, the damage had been caused by trebuchet attacks made by Gaspard’s army. I wasn’t sure whether that was a good or bad thing. Having one of the wings closed off meant there were more places for the unsavory attendees to lurk in the dark. However, that also meant that the party-goers were given less space to roam, and would have more eyes on them than originally planned. In my opinion, it was all a big mess that would hopefully be resolved by the end of the night.

Another interesting tidbit I overheard was the rumored attendance of Celene’s “court apostate”. Though I didn’t hear much, I heard enough to know that the woman was extremely powerful. According to the whispers, she could transform at will into any beast of her choosing, no matter the size. She sounded like a possible suspect. Someone so close would be able to strike the moment Empress Celene was alone with her. It was a scary thought. I tried not to focus on the possibility of fighting her.

I grimaced as a headache began to build at the back of my skull. All the politics and possible assassins were going to drive me bonkers. What I really needed was a moment outside, where there was fresh air and significantly less people. I wanted fewer stares, fewer gazes focusing on my horns and my scales. I wanted a rest.

A few moments later, I spotted the guest gardens through a window across the room. I had managed to make it to the guest wing without tripping or knocking anything over, and I felt like that was a small victory. My reward would be the sweet scent of fresh air, which I could already smell from where I stood. The lack of smothering incense had my headache receding considerably. I made my way towards the door as quickly as possible.

The garden turned out to be smaller than I’d expected. Walls two stories tall surrounded it on three sides, allowing its occupants a breathtaking view of the huge courtyard garden one floor below. Like the interior of the palace, it was lit with magical lights that flickered like candles in their sconces, bathing the plants and guests in pale light. A fountain was built into the far wall, a solid mass of marble and gold leaf surrounded by trellises covered in spiraling vines of ivy. Flowerbeds lined the paths and benches, their flowers open and filling the air with their scents.

Despite being out there for only a minute or two, I felt completely refreshed. I could feel the tension leaving my muscles, slipping off my neck and shoulders like a heavy cloak. I decided then and there that I would spend the majority of my time outside, if I could. I would go inside for some food or a drink, and of course for the dancing I knew I would eventually have to do, but I would immediately retreat to the garden afterwards. That was how I would survive the night.

I had barely taken a full breath before my peace was disrupted.

As I stepped onto the cobblestone path, one of the guests - a man in an indigo doublet - watched me from the shade of a marble column. He turned and whispered something to the woman he’d been talking to, then began taking measured strides towards me. I couldn’t see his eyes, as they were hidden by the shadows of his mask, but his posture told me he wasn’t in a good mood. The way he held himself reminded me of a predator stalking its prey.

Thinking he was heading inside, I stepped onto one of the side paths, one lined with fragrant pink and purple flowers. When he followed me down the path, an icy chill shot up my spine and made the hairs on my arms stand on end.

He was following me. Why was he following me? Had I done something wrong? Had he heard me and Sera playing that game? Oh gods, had we insulted him?

The more I thought about it, the more I began to panic. I needed to find someone I knew, someone I could use as backup. I didn’t want to be alone when the strange man finally caught me.

As I followed the path towards the fountain, a slight rustling above me caught my attention. I looked up, fully expecting to see a bird of some kind on the railing above me. Instead, I caught sight of Lavellan - still looking splendid in her uniform - climbing the farthest trellis like a squirrel. I couldn’t help but pause and blink a few times, halfway convinced I was seeing things. When I looked again, she was still there, hoisting herself over the balcony railing before disappearing out of sight.

What in the world was she doing up there? Had she seen someone? Had anyone besides me seen her climbing? That couldn’t be good for our court approval.

“You there. Beast.”

The harsh, accented voice snapped me out of my thoughts, reminding me of my situation.

I was no longer being followed; I’d been caught.

Turning around, I found myself face to face with the man in the indigo doublet. Now that he was only a few feet away, I could see my assumptions about his intentions had been correct. Even with his mask obscuring most of his face, I could still see the anger in his eyes, in the way he held himself.

I was not, however, about to roll over and let his intimidation tactics get the better of me. Clinging to Leliana’s lessons, I straightened my back, squared my shoulders, and returned his gaze with an annoyed one of my own. “You seem to have forgotten your manners, ser. I have a name.”

The man snorted, his lips twisting into a sneering smile. “And you forget what you are. You deserve a name as much as any other mindless creature.”

A wave of disgust washed over me, and I couldn’t stop myself from frowning at the man.

“Then I will not bother with your name, human, since you seem to lack the common courtesies that human children have learned.”

Judging by the way the man’s eyes narrowed even more, I could tell he hadn’t been expecting a response like that. It made me feel a little better. I wanted to drag him down a little more, to push a few more buttons, but the desire to escape was still going strong inside me. I decided it was time to retreat back inside the palace, and maybe find a friend to stand with. Maybe Cassandra. She was good at keeping the Orlesians at bay.

“You are bothering me,” I said flatly. “Leave me alone.”

“You will answer for your kind’s actions, beast,” the man hissed, stepping closer to me.

Before I could take a step away, he reached out and locked his hand around my wrist. I winced as my bracelet dug harshly into my skin, the pain cracking through my emotional mask. A few seconds of measured struggling told me I wasn’t getting out of this easily.

“Let go of me,” I snarled, no longer bothering to hide my disdain. “Let go of me now.”

“One of your kind has been razing my lands for months now,” the man growled. “Slaughtering livestock. Harassing my merchants. Attacking my property.”

“And how is that my fault? You probably trespassed in its territory!” I snapped, my voice growing a little louder.

The man took another step forward, his free hand clenching into a fist. “You will be silent! Those lands are mine, not some overgrown snake’s. You creatures are nothing but savage beasts! You kill anything in your path, taking what you want and leaving carnage in your wake. You should be exterminated!”

His words were like a slap to the face. It was one thing to hear whispers about my own loyalty and whether or not I would grow to become like any other wild dragon. Yet to hear from someone’s mouth that all dragons deserved to die because a few had attacked someone… It was hard to ignore.

“Look, I’m sorry your property was damaged, but I can’t control what other dragons do. I-”

“Your apologies mean nothing to me, monster,” the man sneered. “You are worth less than Ferelden dog shit.”

“If I am worth so little to you, then why talk to me? We clearly have no business together! Let go!” I tried once again to pull my arm away, but the man continued to hold me, his grip like a vice.

“I demand the Inquisition compensate me for all my losses. It is the least they can do, since they have allied with such monstrous creatures!”

While he spoke, his hold on me tightening a fraction at a time. My bracelet was pressed so hard against my wrist that I was sure my arm would break if it continued. The more I tried to pull away from him, the more my anxiety spiked. I bit my lip until I tasted blood, the coppery taste of it flooding my mouth. The edges of my vision began to get fuzzy, pulsing with every throb that shot through my wrist. My breathing became harsher, more forced with every passing second.

I was on the having a panic attack.

And yet, there was something else there; a bubble of something lodged behind my ribs, growing larger with every passing second. It felt hot, like a piece of molten glass being shaped in a kiln. And inside the glass was a hurricane of emotions. Disgust, annoyance, contempt, aggression.

But out of all of these emotions, the one I recognized the most was rage. I wasn’t about to let someone talk down to me like that. I’d had enough of that in my parents’ house, and I wasn’t about to revert back to my old habits of cower and hide and pretend this treatment was acceptable, that I deserved to be chastised like a child.

Not anymore.

Spurred on by the emotion-fueled heat in my chest, I looked the man square in the eyes and said in a surprisingly clear and calm voice, “You speak of beasts, but I think you have it backwards. We dragons are much more civilized than you barbaric cretins.” I took a step forward, forcing the man to step back to keep his distance. He opened his mouth to reply, but I silenced him with another step forward.

“I think you are the real monsters. At least when a dragon attacks, it takes no prisoners. It fights with all its might and finishes the kill with ease. Dragons do not torture or rape, and we do not kill without reason! We may not speak, but we have instincts and morals that you creatures throw away like trash!”

“How dare y-!”

I jabbed him in the chest with a finger, not caring that my voice was rising to a near-shout. “Your kind kill for sport, taking trophies from the corpse and leaving good meat to rot! You plot against each other with every breath you take, thinking about how you can further your own gain! You think only for yourselves instead of thinking about the needs of the many! You laugh at those you feel are lesser than you, and then turn around and demand that they bend to your will! It’s revolting!”

“You insolent little wretch!” he shouted, a hand rising to slap me. I sucked in a deep breath and closed my eyes, bracing for the sting. I couldn’t avoid it at this range, not without risking my wrist getting twisted.

However, when the sting never came, I opened my eyes to see the man’s arm was being restrained in a large gray hand.

The Iron Bull was standing behind me, protecting me.

“What’s the problem here?” Bull asked lowly, his eye flitting between the man’s face and the hand on my wrist. “Is there a reason why you’re assaulting the lady?”

“This doesn’t concern you, ox-man,” the man sneered as he pulled his arm away from Bull. The qunari let him go, but kept his eye on him. “Go and find your Inquisitor, and bring her here. I’d like to have a word with her about this...beast.” He looked pointedly at me when he spat the last word. “You’ve made this so much worse, you cow. I hope your little tantrum was worth it. When I’m through, the Inquisition will owe me its weight in gold!”

Then he gave my wrist a solid squeeze, as if to make a point.

In that moment, I felt that molten bubble burst inside my chest; an explosion of emotions that instantly overloaded my senses. The haze clouding the edges of my vision became tinged with red spots and spread until I was seeing through a veil the same color as my dress. My anxiety was drowning in hot anger, sinking deeper and deeper inside of me until all I felt was the urge to fight, to vent my rage. My thoughts dwindled down until two words remained.

_Fight._

_Survive._

Suddenly, I felt something hard connect with my free hand, something that cut into my knuckles and sent a small shock up my arm. Through the haze, I realized I had struck out at the man, my fist smashing up into his nose. I could feel something break against my fingers with a muted snap. The man let me go and stumbled back several feet, his eyes wide with shock as a steady stream of blood began pouring down his face. It turned the front of his doublet black as it dripped off his chin.

“How dare you!” he shouted, his voice echoing in the garden. “I am the Marq-”

“I don’t care what you are,” I growled. My blood was boiling in my veins, burning throughout my entire body like a forest fire. “The world is tearing apart at the seams, yet you want _compensation?_ Why would the Inquisition ever listen to a sniveling fool like you?”

The man stepped back again, his face a startling shade of white. “You mouthy little upstart! I'll have you arrested for this!”

My assaulter, however, was cut off. The sound of metal clattering on stone had us all freezing in place. A group of guards were approaching us from the palace, their elaborate plate armor glinting silver in the garden’s light. When they saw the blood, they picked up speed, their posture turning hostile.

The sight of them, combined with the realization that every pair of eyes in the garden was on me, was enough to clear the haze from my vision and the anger from my head. Whatever strength I’d had a moment ago was gone in a flash, replaced with a knee-shaking weakness that had me reaching out for something to lean my weight on.

I wasn’t expecting it when Bull gently lifted me up and deposited me on the nearest bench.

“You alright?” he murmured.

After a few minutes of shaky breathing, I managed a small nod.

“Good. We’ll get him taken care of.”

“W-we?” I asked.

“Oh yes, _lethallan_ ,” a soothing voice replied.

I looked to my right to see Lavellan standing next to me, plucking a leaf from her sleeve as she smiled at the incoming guards. “I doubt that the Empress will approve of one of her guests being assaulted during her own peace talks.”

“But...I think I broke his nose.”

“Self-defense,” Bull said easily.

“Exactly.” Lavellan gave me a smile and a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Just take it easy for now. I won’t let them hurt you.”

Still feeling a great deal of anxiety, I followed their advice and focused on getting my breathing back to normal. It took a good chunk of time too, since I could still feel the eyes of the other nobles crawling on my back. I longed for the strength to stand and leave the garden, to find a new place to hide and sort out my thoughts, but my legs wouldn’t cooperate. My knees wouldn’t stop shaking, even when I kept my weight off of them. How was I supposed to dance with anyone if I couldn’t even stand? Then again, this was a good excuse not to dance at all.

Shooing those thoughts away, I turned my attentions elsewhere. Lavellan, who had apparently seen the tail end of the dispute from the upper balcony, easily dealt with the guards and my assaulter. With the bruise on my wrist taking the shape of the man’s hand, it was easy to explain my retaliation had been purely self-defense. The guards led my assaulter away shortly after that, ignoring his complaints of mistreatment. Lavellan left with them, insisting that the Empress would hear about the incident.

While that had gone on, The Iron Bull had left and returned with a variety of items from one of the buffet tables. He set the food and drinks next to me on the bench, then took the remaining seat for himself.

“Feeling any better yet?” he asked.

I looked down at my still-trembling hands. “I don’t know. I’m glad it’s over. Now I just feel...really tired.” I picked up one of the glasses, not really caring if it was booze I was drinking. It turned out to be water.

“You should eat something.” He nudged the plate towards me. “Dragon’s blood can take a lot out of you.”

I looked down at my hand, where my fist had collided with the nose of the man’s mask. The skin on two of my knuckles had split open, oozing blood at a slow pace. “But I didn’t drink any blood…”

“You bit your lip.”

I carefully ran a finger over my lips, only to stop when I found the cut on my bottom lip. “Oh. I hadn’t realized.”

“It’s something to watch out for,” Bull said. “You may be a dragon, but it still affects you just like any other reaver.”

“I’ll try to avoid getting punched in the face,” I replied wryly. Bull snorted in response, and I couldn’t help but smile. Maybe I was feeling a little better after all.

Eventually, we began slowly picking at the food between us. I watched as Bull selected what looked like a cluster of candied nuts covered in some kind of reddish powder. Picking up a similar piece, I sniffed it once before popping it in my mouth. It was absolutely delicious for such a small thing. For a moment, all I could taste was honey and pecans melting in my mouth, and I was in heaven. Then, once I swallowed, a wave of heat and spice hit me like a sack of bricks. I grabbed my glass of water and downed it in one swift motion.

“What the hell was that?!” I said, my voice a hoarse whisper.

Bull chuckled and held up another one of the deceptive nutty clusters. “Spiced nuts. They’re sweet, but once you swallow they’ve got some damn good spice.”

“And you couldn’t have warned me?!”

“Sure, I could’ve. But then you wouldn’t be making such a cute face.”

The simplicity of that comment, combined with how easily Bull said it, left me quietly stunned for a moment. My face burned from both the spice of the treat and my own embarrassment. I could only avert my eyes and try to ignore the way Bull’s smile made my stomach flutter.

I wanted to ask him to dance with me. Not now, so soon after a fight, but maybe later, once the hunt for the assassin was over. The night wasn’t even close to being over. We would have time, right?

When I glanced up, my confidence just barely standing again, I spotted Lavellan heading our way with her mouth set in a grim line. Her eyes burned with annoyance, and many of the nobles cleared out of her path when they spotted her. Solas was following a step behind her, the picture of calm composure. If I felt safe when Bull was around, I felt untouchable with those two around as well.

“Nothing seems to be broken,” Solas said once he’d taken a look at my wrist. “If we were elsewhere, I would suggest ice for it. However, the dancing will begin shortly.” He drew a vial of red liquid from his jacket pocket and held it out to me; a small health potion.  “Drink this. It will alleviate the pain and swelling for now.”

As much as I wanted to skip out on the dancing, I took the vial and reluctantly downed its contents. The overwhelming taste of elfroot filled my mouth, and I quickly shoved a couple sweets into my mouth to cover it. I didn’t need my breath reeking of herbs.

The effects of the potion were quick to show. My wrist, once and angry red, began to return to its normal color. The swelling slowly went down, and the spot where my bracelet had bit into my skin changed from reddish purple to only a light red. I flexed my muscles for a minute, testing the limits of the healing. So long as I didn’t overextend it or put any weight on it, I was good to go.

“Thank you,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry I caused trouble for you all.”

Lavellan scoffed and shook her head. “You’ve caused no trouble. That noble was the instigator. You were defending yourself.”

“Yes, but won’t he try to get back at the Inquisition for this?”

“If he does, he’ll regret it,” she replied under her breath. “I don’t cater to brats, especially when they attack my family.”

The urge to spring to my feet and hug Lavellan was almost overwhelming. Having someone defend me so readily was still an unfamiliar occurrence, but the fact that she was saying I was her family - in the middle of an Orlesian ball, no less -  was enough to make my heart feel big enough to burst. I didn’t deserve that kind of love. I felt like I had done nothing to earn it. But there was something I could do to help improve the court’s opinion on us.

With what little strength I’d regained from the potion, I got to my feet and willed myself to stay standing. My knees were still a little wobbly, but I could stand on my own. “You said the dancing will start soon, right?”

When Lavellan nodded, I willed as much steel into my spine as possible. “Then I have a job to do.”

“You sure?” Bull asked. “You still look a little shaky.” I could feel the qunari’s hand resting on my back, ready to catch me if I faltered. I felt another flutter in my stomach, one that sent goosebumps up my bare arms. I gave him a faint smile.

“I should be alright. Though...I’m going to need help getting back to the ballroom.”

Lavellan laughed, a nice change from the anger that I’d seen a moment ago. “Got a little lost, hmm?”

“Maybe. This place is much bigger than Skyhold.”

Suddenly a sly smile appeared on Lavellan’s face. “Then you will need an escort,” she replied smoothly. “Bull, would you mind?”

In the space of a second, I could feel my face heating up all over again.

“Sure, Boss. I’ll take care of her.”

Aaaand, the blushing got worse.

“It’s alright,” I said quickly. “I-I’m sure I can find the way back somehow.”

“A moment ago, you said that you were lost,” Solas cut in. Lavellan nodded in agreement.

“That is true. And it seems Bull is more than happy to help you out,” she said. “Right, Bull?”

I looked up to see the qunari looking at me with that damn half-smile on his face; the one that turned my insides into goo. He met my gaze and nodded. “I’d be happy to.”

“See? And would walking with him be so bad, Herah?” Lavellan asked.

“Well, n-no, but-”

“Then it’s settled!” she chirped, clapping her hands. “He’ll escort you to the ballroom. Solas and I will follow shortly.”

As Bull offered me his arm, I placed my slightly trembling hand in the crook of his elbow. Despite my emotions battling it out inside my head, I felt a tiny thread of confidence wind its way around my heart. I could do this, right? It was just a walk! I could handle a walk.

With Bull.

While holding onto his arm.

Oh gods, I was going to trip and break something.

“We’ll see you both inside,” Bull called back as he led me away. I turned to wave at Lavellan and Solas, but ended up glaring when I saw the delighted grin on Lavellan’s face. She waggled her fingers at me, looking entirely too happy with herself. Solas was smiling as well, but his was much more composed than the Inquisitor’s.

They’d just set me up! I’d been duped! Not that it was an entirely bad thing…

I didn’t know whether I should have cursed them or thanked them.

The awkwardness of the situation seemed to fade as we entered the palace. I easily ignored the eyes trained on us in favor of focusing on keeping hold of Bull. He was taking smaller strides than usual, making sure I could easily keep up without exhausting what little strength I’d regained. Just being near him made me feel dumb and goofy, like maybe the world wasn’t such a mean place. He was always sweet and courteous, and he always made me smile.

I wanted to ask him so many questions; about him, his past, his whole life. I wanted to ask him if he liked me. I wanted to ask if maybe, just maybe, there was a chance we could spend more time together. I wanted to know if he and I could be more than friends.

“You know,” he said as we walked, “the way you flayed that noble alive was pretty damn impressive.”

“Oh! Th-thank you,” I squeaked, unsure of what to say. He was complimenting me! Holy shit, this night was getting better.

“Did Leliana teach you how to do that?”

“I, uh… no.” I mumbled. “I just said what I wanted to say. I feel like no one ever sees a dragon as anything other than a crazed beast. But we’re much more than that!" I paused, suddenly conscious of what I was saying. "Or...maybe it’s just me.”

A beat of silence passed between us, hovering on the edge of tense. Then Bull spoke.

“I won’t lie; I’ve killed my fair share of dragons."

I had known this already, had heard him talk about his kills before in the tavern and around campfires, but the way he said it dug painfully into my heart. Would he ever see me as just a beast one day? Something that needed to be killed to protect others? The idea made my chest ache fiercely.

“But,” he added, “I’ve never met one like you before. You’re the only one that hasn’t tried to attack me on sight. It makes me wonder.”

I let the silence linger for a moment before asking, “Wonder what?”

He smiled and patted my hand, large and grey easily covering small and scaled. “It makes me wonder if the dragons are adapting.”

It was an interesting idea, if a little off the mark. No matter how much I wanted, I was still a human in the body of a dragon. There was a very high chance I was nothing like those legendary wild beasts. Did the species have the aspects I’d claimed they did, or was I just making things up at this point? I wanted to be right, to know for sure that dragons really did have morals and instincts that they followed.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t be sure. I’d never truly encountered another dragon in Thedas. I’d seen the distant one on the Storm Coast, and then the one Corypheus had attacked us with, but that was it. However, that could easily be changed.

“I want to meet another dragon,” I said.

Bull hummed and patted my hand again. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll meet one eventually. They’re not so endangered anymore.” He glanced down at me and raised an eyebrow. “Just make sure you bring me with. Can’t have you going off and getting hurt now.” His gaze grew distant for a moment as he shuddered. “Boss would kill me if that happened.”

I snickered and bumped my shoulder against his bicep. “Gasp! Is the big, fearsome qunari scared of the little elf lady? I didn’t think anything intimidated you.”

In the space of a second, Bull stopped walking. Then he leaned down, and whispered something in my ear. I flushed bright red when I felt his breath against my neck.

“Only powerful women. It’s a weakness I’m willing to bear.”

Then he stood up straight again, gave me a one-eyed wink, and continued walking us to the ballroom. During that time, my mind had effectively shorted out, leaving me with my face tomato red and my heart firmly lodged in my throat. How was it possible that one whisper from him had reduced me to a puddle of shivers? Distantly, I felt a burst of embarrassment try to rear its ugly head, but I did my best to kick it away.

Could I be powerful? He’d said I was impressive in the garden. Was that the same thing?

Eventually, we reached the ballroom. We were physically in one piece, but I was still mentally splattered all over the last hallway. I had to take a moment to compose myself as the first bell began to ring, signalling the beginning of the dancing.

“Thank you for helping me get here, Bull,” I said, trying my best to keep my voice even.

“Anytime, Herah,” he replied. “Come find me if you need anything else tonight. I’ll have your back.”

I grinned and nodded, hugely relieved by his offer. “I’ll do that. Keep a seat open for me.”

Then Bull smiled that dumb half-smile again, and I felt something in my heart light up like a beacon. I didn’t want to just sit with him and chat, or use him to avoid the nobles. I wanted more than that.

“Bull? I have a question.”

“What is it, Herah?”

“I was...wondering-” I shuffled in place awkwardly, doing my best to keep myself from running away. “-if you aren’t busy later, would you maybe-”

“Ah, there’s the lady I was looking for.”

I screamed internally as Gaspard appeared in the ballroom doorway, the crowd quickly making room for him to walk. The Grand Duke made his way over to us and imposed himself partially between myself and Bull, effectively cutting off our conversation and bringing attention to himself. He smelled faintly like wine.

“You certainly took your time appearing, Lady Herah,” he said, his tone caught between mild offense and boredom. “I was worried you might not grace me with a dance after all.”

In a flash, I slipped the mental mask in place once again, schooling my features into indifference as I swallowed the venomous words I longed to say instead.

“As you can see, I’m here now, your highness,” I said evenly, my eyes locked with his. “You’ll have your dance. But first, I’d like to finish speaking to my companion. If you don’t mind?” _In other words, fuck off, asshole._

“Companion?” Gaspard echoed as he looked at the people around us. He made an “Ah” sound when he realized Bull was standing behind him, still as a statue. “I see. I suppose that will be alright, so long as you don’t take too long. My time is precious, after all. Do be quick, my lady.”

As I watched Gaspard walk towards the stairs, I coughed and regained what little composure I had. “Well that ruined the moment,” I grumbled.

Bull shrugged. “He’s Orlesian. It’s what they’re born to do.”

Surprised by the joke, I covered my mouth with a hand and snickered, the tension draining a little from the air. Bull seemed to like that, and let out a little laugh himself before saying, “Anyway, what were you going to ask?”

Reminded of my original intention, I cleared my throat and said, “R-right. As I was saying. Would you maybe...be up for a dance?”

My heart was still beating wildly in my chest, making me feel more like a punching bag than a person. I wanted to hear his answer, but I couldn’t seem to swallow the urge to cover my ears. Rejection would hurt too much, and I didn’t want to experience that in Thedas. And yet here I was, asking a man if he would be willing to dance with me later. I wasn’t very good at following my own rules.

“I-I mean, it doesn’t have to be soon or anything,” I said quickly, trying to fill the silence between us. “We could dance whenever, I’m fine with that. O-or if you don’t want to, that’s okay too! I-I-”

Slowly, Bull reached out and gently took one of my hands in his. I was keenly aware of every callus on his palm, every scar that criss-crossed his skin. I wanted to know the story behind each one.

“I-I just thought I’d...ask…”

After what felt like an eternity, Bull finally answered with a low chuckle and a nod.

“I think I can make that happen.”

My heart very nearly stopped before kicking into high gear. Hearing him say that was like seeing the sun after a long, dreary winter. Warmth flooded my cheeks; not from embarrassment, but from sheer elation. He’d said yes! Yes!! I was so happy, I thought I would faint.

“I look forward to it, then,” I said, barely restraining my glee. “I guess...I’ll see you later?”

All I heard was another laugh before Bull was leaning down again, his hand raising mine to his lips. He kissed the back of my hand, his lips lingering as he gave me a wicked grin that made my heart skip a beat.

“Yes, you will.”

I walked away from him in a haze of happiness, barely aware of the smile on my face. I didn’t bother hiding my emotions from the court. They could talk if they wanted. I was too happy to care. The world was a wonderful place, and I had a chance at happiness, even if it was just for a little while.

Gaspard was waiting for me on the landing, and said nothing about my expression when I approached. He simply smiled and offered his arm to me.

“Are you ready to enchant the ballroom, my lady?”

I nodded as I tucked my hand into the crook of his arm. “Yes, your highness.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! Part two is done, and now it's on to part 3! I'm so excited!! The story will pick up quite a bit after this, so I hope you'll all stick around for it!


	39. Wicked Intentions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, 39's finally been proofed and edited. Sorry it's a week late. My beta reader had some medical things come up, so he couldn't get it done on time. But now the wait is over and you can all ready this mission's conclusion!
> 
> Now, before you all get to reading, I have a small announcement. For the next month or so, I'm going to be going on a brief hiatus. I'm heading into finals week (college quarters suck, let me tell you), and I'll only have a week between the end of this quarter and the beginning of the next. So I'm giving myself a brief vacation. I'll do my best to return to you all by July, hopefully with a chapter or two ready for you to read. You can always reach me at my main blog or the TDS blog if you want to chat or just see what I'm up to. 
> 
> I'll see you all in July! Happy reading! ;D

The first dance was a simple one; a waltz, played by a small band at the edge of the dancefloor. It was the first one I’d learned alongside Lavellan. The Waltz of the Waking Sea. It’s steps were supposed to mimic the sea it was named for, from the ebb and flow of its waves to the currents beneath its surface. Hearing the piece played by the band was different from hearing one of the bards in Skyhold play it. It sounded much better, much richer, with more than one instrument. 

As Gaspard and I spun across the floor, surrounded by other dancing nobles, I felt better and better about the night. Aside from the small altercation in the garden, things were going well. The Empress was still alive, so that either meant no one had made a move on her yet, or they had failed. There was a good chance we would succeed tonight. At least, I hoped that was true.

“I heard,” Gaspard murmured, just loud enough for nobody but me to hear, “that the Lady Inquisitor disappeared briefly tonight. Has something been found?”

My thoughts drifted back to the garden where I’d seen Lavellan scaling the trellis. “I’m afraid I don’t know, Your Highness. I only saw the Inquisitor a few moments before the bell rang. We weren’t able to talk.”

“A pity. I was hoping you might have some good news for me.” His tone was disappointed, but his eyes - locked with mine - were filled with indifference. “I’m sure she is doing her best to keep the Ambassador’s rats from disrupting tonight’s events.”

I made a noncommittal sound, not really interesting in talking. I focused , instead , on my footwork and trying not to trip over the hem of my dress.

“I’ve heard whispers that you nearly killed someone tonight.”

Taken off guard, I botched a step and was forced to correct myself with a few quick steps. “I-I can assure you, Your Highness, no such thing happened.”

“Oh? And what did, if I may ask?”

I frowned, finding it harder and harder to keep my mind on dancing while we talked. “A nobleman tried to extort the Inquisition through me. I convinced him to take his demands elsewhere.”

“And how did you do that?” The corners of Gaspard’s eyes crinkled as a smile appeared on his face. I stifled the urge to swear. Being so close to him made me feel so gross. It didn’t help that the smell of wine was worse the closer I was.

“I simply told him my opinion on the matter,” I said as I stepped away. Then I spun in place, stepped back into Gaspard’s arms, and added, “And then I broke his nose.”

The Grand Duke seemed amused by this. “An interesting approach.”

“I didn’t have many options. He was about to break my arm.”

“Then perhaps he deserved a little pain. Would you wish another punishment upon him, if you had the chance?”

His question struck me as odd. Was he offering something? It sounded like it, but I couldn’t be sure. “I would not. I would hope that he learned his lesson and will not bother me again.”

Gaspard nodded as if I had said something profound. I could tell he was humoring me. It pissed me off. Why wasn’t the dance ending yet? Hadn’t we been going for long enough? I glanced at the other dancers, but saw nothing out of place. Maybe I was just too eager to get away.

“Dragons are truly incredible creatures,” the Grand Duke said out of nowhere, drawing my attention back to him. “They contain so much power, yet remain completely wild, free from the influence of man.” 

Then, meeting my confused gaze, he added, “Well, except for you, My Lady.”

I narrowed my eyes, knowing I had just been insulted. “I am influenced by no one, Your Highness. My thoughts are my own.”

“Of course,” he said with a nod. “I meant no disrespect. I am simply curious.”

I hated to ask, since he was clearly trying to bait me, but I went along with it anyway. I needed to keep myself from counting the seconds until the dance’s end. “Curious about what?” 

“I find myself wondering if there are other dragons like yourself. Those who can be reasoned with.” He smiled, and his eyes seemed to grow distant. “I see potential for...an alliance between dragons and my empire.”

I swallowed the urge to laugh. “You want an alliance. That would be highly unlikely.” For several reasons. One : he would need Celene out of the way to claim the Orlesian Empire, which had a seemingly low chance of happening tonight. And two : he would need to actually talk to a dragon and convince them to join him. It sounded like an idiot’s dream.

“Think of it, Lady Herah,” he purred, his eyes focusing on me again. “With the protection of the Empire, dragons would never go extinct again. Your kind would never want for anything. And with their help, the Orlesian army would be untouchable. Can you imagine it?”

I was stunned into silence. Something inside me wanted to say yes, to tell the Grand Duke that his plan was wonderful, and that I wanted to work with him to keep the dragons alive and well. He was promising the species protection. He was willing to make peace with them. Yet, Lavellan’s words rang strong inside my mind.

_ “The nobles are your enemies. Do not trust them with anything.” _

This man was a player of The Great Game. Every word he said was laced with hidden meanings and half-truths. He was still a step away from the throne, yet he was talking to me about something he was going to do when the Empire was truly his. 

He was trying to convince me to support him.

I was not about to do that so easily. To me, he was still just as much of a snake as Celene. The whole of Orlais was a nest of vipers, and I had to tread carefully to keep from getting bitten.

“And what exactly would you get out of such an arrangement?” I asked. I felt my blood humming in my veins as the waltz reached its final crescendo, signalling the song’s approaching end. 

Gaspard smiled. “Why, they would fight alongside my men, securing the wellbeing of Orlais. Is that not a fair agreement?”

I wanted to vomit. 

To imagine the dragons of Thedas reduced to mounts and cannon fodder was beyond revolting. They deserved freedom, not slavery. I would not stand by and see them herded into captivity, forced to fight in wars they didn’t belong in. The thought of it rankled every fiber of my being to the point that I dropped my mental mask, letting my emotions show plain on my face. I bit my tongue to keep my anger in.

Gaspard must have seen my reaction. I heard him sigh as we parted, the dance finally ending. 

“What a shame. I’d hoped for your assistance in this endeavor,” he said as he bowed. “I suppose I will have to find another way.”

“What makes you think any dragon would ever listen to you?” I asked, my voice dangerously low as I returned his bow with a curtsey. I could feel my blood burning in my veins, the urge to attack him growing stronger the longer I looked at him.

He simply smiled as he turned away. “Silly beast. I am not a man you say no to.”

And then he was gone, melting into the crowd as a new batch of nobles convened on the dancefloor.

With my emotions running wild, I hurried in the opposite direction, up the nearest set of stairs and through the nearest door. I ended up on a balcony with a clear view of the courtyard garden. It was lit with the same magic lights as the other garden, and had several planters filled with the same flowers. Had I been in a better state of mind, I would have enjoyed them more.

Unfortunately, I was not doing so well. 

What little control I had inside swiftly disappeared the moment I stepped outside. I rushed to the railing, ready to throw up what little food I’d eaten. My lungs felt as if they were shrinking, and my breathing was coming in shorter and shorter puffs that was making my head spin. I could feel my heart hammering against my ribs so hard I thought they would break under the strain. Tears spilled down my cheeks, hot and uncontrolled. It wasn’t long before I was on my knees, my forehead pressed against the cool marble railing.

Gaspard’s words had struck me like a punch to the gut. He had changed his tune so easily, switching from friendly to malicious in the blink of an eye. It was then that it truly sunk in how two-faced Orlesians were. Lavellan had been right. They couldn’t be trusted. They were willing to lie and cheat their way to victory, to step on anything in their path without blinking.

What the hell was I doing here? I didn’t belong here. I didn’t want to be here. I belonged at Skyhold, or the Storm Coast, or on Earth. I didn’t fit in with this crowd. I’d failed the Inquisition by letting my emotions run wild. And because of that, Gaspard had shattered my confidence with a smile and a word.

I was a failure.

I was also having a very bad panic attack.

Just when I thought I would pass out, I heard the door open with a soft click. I turned to snarl at the intruder, but stopped when I saw Lavellan rushing towards me, a startled look on her face.

“Herah! What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” She knelt in front of me and pressed her hands to my cheeks, ignoring the tears that soaked into her gloves. “I saw you run away after your dance. What happened?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but all that I could manage were choked sobs. 

Mentally exhausted, I did the first thing I could think of ;  I threw my arms around Lavellan and buried my face into her shoulder, unaware that my tears were staining her coat. If she noticed, she didn’t care. She held me tightly, a hand rubbing my back as she whispered to me.

“Hush,  _ lethallan _ , I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re always safe with me. Just breathe.”

When I managed to calm down enough to speak, I did my best to explain to her what happened. I told her all about Gaspard, what he was planning to do if he became emperor, and how I’d failed the Inquisition by letting my emotions show. Lavellan, obviously infuriated by Gaspard’s blatant threats to dragons, assured me that I had not failed at all. In fact, I’d apparently helped Lavellan.

“With Gaspard showing his true colors, I know I cannot support his ascent to the throne,” she explained. “That makes my job easier once the threat of assassination has been dealt with.”

“You mean...they haven’t attacked the Empress yet?” I asked.

Lavellan shook her head. “No, but I’ve found their trail. The Empress’ Occult Advisor gave me a key to another wing of the palace. I plan on going there next.”

“I suppose I can’t really go with you, can I?”

“I don’t think that would be wise,” she replied sadly. “As much as I want you with me, your magic is still unstable. I need you to remain with the party, to keep an eye on the Empress.”

I nodded, even though I wanted to use any excuse to get away. I was so sick of nobles. I wanted to see the rest of the palace, but she was right that I should stay. Despite my daily practice with Solas, I wasn’t very powerful. I could only cast a few fireballs before my mana was depleted. I still had a lot to learn.

“I can’t wait until we get back to Skyhold,” I murmured.

“I know, Herah.”

“If I ever have to wear a dress again, it’ll be too soon.”

“I feel the same way about this uniform.”

A moment of comfortable silence passed between us. Then, out of the blue:

“So...did you get a chance to talk with Bull?”

I groaned and hid my face in my hands. “I made a fool of myself, if that’s what you’re asking. But,” - I slid my hands down until I could look her in the eyes - “he did agree to dance with me later.”

Lavellan’s face brightened at that. She took my hands and gave them a comforting squeeze. “That’s wonderful! You did it, Herah! You just needed a little push after all!”

“So you admit you set me up!”

Lavellan grinned. “Perhaps I did, but all that matters now is that you have a dance to look forward to.” She stood swiftly, pulled me to my feet, and planted a kiss on the top of my head. “I knew you could do it.”

* * *

I left the balcony and headed back inside a short time later, my eyes dry and my emotions back in line. While I hadn’t completely recovered from my panic attack, I felt significantly better than before. I wasn’t ready to dance again, but I could still enjoy a few things at the party, like food and friends. And if that didn’t work, I could always retreat to the balcony again.

After visiting the buffet table and getting myself some food, I decided to lay low for a little while. I found a bench inside the ballroom, just a few steps away from Josie, and claimed it for myself. Just me and my little plate of sweets.

Much to my dismay, a number of the nobles had decided that since I’d danced with the Grand Duke, I was suddenly worth talking to.

At first there were only one or two people passing by me, offering me polite small talk or asking a question about me or the Inquisition. I didn’t mind those people so much. They didn’t stick around for long, and I liked that. I wanted to keep my attention focused on the Empress, who was currently crown-deep in negotiations.

Then there were the nobles who clearly wanted to talk. They would approach me and drag me into a conversation before I could say a word. Their questions were polite but invasive, probing for information about the Inquisition, Lavellan, and myself. Seeing as I still had to make a good impression, I shouldered my way through every conversation with the shortest answers I could think of. 

“What exactly are you doing with the Inquisition, Lady Herah?”

“I am her protector. I will defend her until the world is safe once again.” 

“What caused you to join in the first place?”

“The Lady Inquisitor rescued me, despite knowing the dangers of my kind. She has earned my respect.”

“What is your opinion on the civil war? Does the Inquisition support Grand Duke Gaspard’s claim to the throne?”

“The Inquisition is a neutral party. I can give you nothing else on that subject.”

“Why do you allow a rabbit to lead you?”

“Lady Lavellan is a fine leader, and she doesn’t deserve to be called a rabbit. I advise you to think about what you say in front of me.”

“Where exactly are you from? Does your breed have a name?”

“I am from Ferelden. The Storm Coast, specifically. And I do not know the name for my “breed”. Perhaps you should ask an expert instead?”

The questions dragged on and on, seemingly lasting for hours before each group moved on and another took its place. I longed for the peace of the balcony, where I could sit and enjoy a little well-deserved solitude. 

Occasionally, someone would ask me for a dance. After my ordeal with Gaspard, I wasn’t very enthusiastic about the idea of getting back out on the dance floor, but Josie managed to convince me to accept.

“It is a once in a lifetime opportunity for them,” she explained after gently pulling me aside. “They do not know if they will ever get this chance again. Accept, and the Inquisition might have one more ally among the Orlesian nobility.”

With a quiet groan, I agreed. “Alright. But only a few dances. I don’t want to be too tired later on.” Because I had one extremely important dance to look forward to; my dance with Bull.

So I caved in and accepted a few dance requests here and there. I pulled on all my dancing knowledge on that ballroom floor, doing my best to keep from stepping on my partner’s toes while keeping up with their footwork. I danced waltz after waltz, each differing slightly in their speed and steps. Most of my partners - while very good dancers - ranged widely in temperament. A few were very stiff and mechanical, as if they weren’t really hearing the music. They were tough to dance with. I didn’t mind the few that were at least enjoying the dance a little. Their steps were easy to match.

The best part of the night was when Lavellan took to the dancefloor herself. She was partnered with Grand Duchess Florianne, and was doing spectacularly well. The two of them glided across the marble as if their feet didn’t touch the ground. It was a beautiful sight. I was sad when it ended. I could have watched Lavellan dance for hours. 

As the night wore on, the time growing ever closer to midnight, I excused myself from dancing and made my way over to Cullen. He was looking stressed out, and judging from the way the group of nobles were crowding around him, he wasn’t getting much air. I couldn’t help but empathize with him. 

He looked surprised when I approached, and made a few stammered excuses to his “new friends”. They pouted, but eventually drifted away.

“How are you feeling, Commander?” I asked when they were out of earshot. 

“I’m...better, now that they’re gone,” he replied, his hand rising to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Thank you for that.”

“It’s no trouble. I needed to get away from the dancing anyway.”

Cullen looked up at that, his expression a little more conflicted than before. His voice was quiet. “The Inquisitor informed me of what has happened to you tonight.”

“Oh.” I should have known everyone would have heard about my mishaps by now. “I’m sorry for causing unnecessary trouble.”

“You don’t need to apologize, Herah. No one could fault you for what happened, not with the nobleman or with the Grand Duke.”

I glanced away, unable to meet Cullen’s gaze. “I would rather forget about the nobleman. But Gaspard...I can’t forget what he said. I can’t forgive him for his threats.”

“If Celene falls tonight, he is the only option Orlais has left,” the commander said lowly, his eyes flicking to the table where the three leaders were gathered. “While I may not agree with some of his methods, a more military-inclined Orlais would be an asset in a fight against Corypheus.”

His words were like an elbow to the gut. After what I’d gone through tonight, how could Cullen still be considering the option of making Gaspard emperor? He was a monster in human skin. Anything was better than him.

I couldn’t keep the venom from my voice when I replied, “And when the fight with Corypheus is over, he will gather his army and march east, where he will lay siege to the cities of Ferelden, enslaving or slaughtering my kin as he goes.” 

When Cullen opened his mouth to speak, I fixed him with a withering gaze. “Do you truly think he would be satisfied with Orlais’ borders as it is? You said yourself that he’s military-inclined. He will seek war.”

“That is...certainly one way to look at it.” Cullen frowned, his arms folded across his chest. “However, I don’t think we have the luxury of deciding anything just yet. There is still much we must do tonight.”

I sighed and nodded, my anger subsiding with his words. “Of course. I’m sorry, Commander. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that.” I flexed the fingers of my right hand, still feeling the ache in my wrist despite the lack of bruising. “Tonight has been...an experience, to say the least.”

“I can’t blame you for being angry,” the man conceded. For a moment, a glimmer of exhaustion slipped onto his features, making him look unusually weak. “Tensions are certainly running high.”

“I don’t know about you,” I said dryly, “but I’m looking forward to going home to Skyhold after all this is done.”

Cullen looked at me curiously. “You consider Skyhold your home now?”

“I do. Absolutely.”

“There is nowhere else you would call home?”

I shook my head and gave him a smile. “Nope. The only home I have now is Skyhold. And Lavellan is my family now. For as long as she’ll have me, I will remain by her side.” I knew my face was turning pink from saying such a silly thing, but it felt wonderful to say it. I was still getting used to such an idea. Lavellan and I were family! I wasn’t alone in this strange world.

“The Inquisitor is a lucky woman to have such a steadfast friend,” a lilting voice said softly. “Such things are rare, nowadays.”

Cullen and I turned to see Grand Duchess Florianne approaching us, a warm smile on her face. She was looking no worse for wear after so many hours of running a party; not a hair or thread out of place. This kind of event seemed to be her element. But despite her outward appearance, she made me uneasy. She was Gaspard’s sister, after all. There was a very good chance that she supported her brother’s views on enslaving dragons. 

I had to swallow the urge to scowl as I dipped in a formal curtsey, my eyes downcast. “Your Highness, it’s an honor to finally meet you,” I said demurely.

The Grand Duchess returned my curtsey with one of her own, her smile never wavering. “The pleasure is mine, Lady Herah. I am delighted that you could attend the ball after all.” She turned her attentions on Cullen for a moment. “Would you allow me to borrow Lady Herah for a moment, Commander?”

Cullen glanced at me briefly before bowing. “Not at all, Your Highness.”

“Splendid. Come, Lady Herah,” Florianne said as she turned away towards the vestibule. 

I waved farewell to Cullen before we set off, walking side by side through the crowd. Many of the guests were quick to move out of our way. I had to admit, it was a nice change from dodging the hems of those enormous gowns. It almost felt like I was someone important or intimidating, even though I knew it was all because of Florianne.

“How do you find the palace,” she asked eventually, her tone curious. “We have heard your Inquisitor’s opinion on the Winter Palace, but I am more interested in yours.”

I floundered for a second, trying to think of something positive. “It’s...a lovely place, for sure. I’ve never seen a place so decorated. Though I suppose I’m used to the simplicity of Skyhold.”

Florianne nodded. “I had hoped to speak to you earlier in the night. Unfortunately, an issue with one of the other guests arose before I had the chance.” She gave me a sidelong glance and what seemed like an apologetic smile. “I hope you will forgive me for not greeting you sooner.”

“There’s no need for forgiveness, Your Highness,” I replied quickly. 

I hadn’t minded at all that she hadn’t greeted me personally. In fact, I’d been hoping to avoid her. The odd way she’d spoken about not expecting the Inquisition to attend had thrown me off. Hadn’t Gaspard shared his plan with her? I’d assumed he would have, but then again, they were siblings. Siblings didn’t always talk, or even like each other.

When the silence stretched between us, I made a terrible attempt at small talk. “I-I was told you planned this whole event yourself, Your Highness. I can’t imagine having to host such a thing myself. I don’t think I would’ve been able to handle so many people.”

“Orlesians are born with the desire to ‘handle others’,” she replied breezily. “It is a part of the the Great Game, after all. We learn from a very young age how the world works.”

Her words felt like a nail scraping up along my spine. Why had the Great Game been created in the first place? It seemed like such an awful way to live. There was no way you could trust anyone.

When I didn’t speak, Florianne sighed and drew me down a nearby hallway. We passed several partygoers before stopping in front of a set of double doors flanked by four guards. Florianne entered without a word, and I wordlessly followed. My eyes were immediately drawn to the many creatures lining the room, all positioned as if they were in their normal habitats. Their eyes glassy and fake. I could no longer smell the incense that had clouded the air of the ballroom. Instead, I could smell treated furs and leather. The few people already within the room barely spared us a glance before returning to their conversations. A servant circled the room, bearing a plate of bubbly drinks.

We were in a trophy room.

“Do you know what this creature is?” the Grand Duchess asked, bringing my attention back to her. 

She was pointing at a large lizard at least fourteen feet long from nose to tail, covered in a motley of bluish gray and bright orange scales. Its eyes were a startling shade of yellow, with horizontal slits for pupils. Its teeth were as long as my fingers, and they protruded menacingly from its mouth. A thin, orange membrane stretched between the spikes on its back and between wing-like appendages that sprouted from its front legs. Its tail ended in a cluster of spikes that looked like it could both bludgeon and slice an opponent to death.

As I gazed at the creature, I couldn’t help but shiver. “N-no, Your Highness. I’ve never seen it before.”

Florianne smiled and stepped towards it, her hand almost touching its jaw. “It is called a wyvern. Scholars say that they are close cousins of your kind.”

“O-oh? I didn’t know that,” I said, trying to keep my unease under control. 

If Florianne saw my body language, she made no comment. She simply pulled back her hand and began walking towards the next creature. I followed her, but at a distance I felt was safe.

“Tell me, Lady Herah,” the Grand Duchess said in her lilting voice. “What does it take for a dragon to pledge its loyalty to someone?”

I blinked, startled by the forwardness of the question. I didn’t know Orlesians could sound so...direct. “I, uh. I don’t know about any other dragons, but I follow the Inquisitor because I respect her.”

“And how exactly did she earn this, if it’s not too bold to ask?” She was watching me out of the corner of her eye, her face an expressionless mask as she “studied” the trophy in front of her. I frowned, unable to deny her an answer without risking her support for the Inquisition.

“She saved my life,” I said quietly. I turned back to the wyvern, looking into its dull glass eyes and seeing my reflection. I could count the scales on my face, could see the spots where my horns sprouted up and back over my head. “I thought I was going to die, but she came out of nowhere and freed me from my captors. She even healed my wounds.”

I looked down at my hands, remembering the way Lavellan had held them before we’d left for the ball. I’d never realized how good it felt to hold someone’s hand again, to feel that person’s fingers entwined with my own. A smile tugged at my lips. “At first I just wanted to stay someplace safe, where I could recover. But I came to know her, after a time. She has always been more than just the Herald of Andraste or the Inquisitor to me. She’s been one of my closest friends.”

I looked over at Florianne, determination welling up inside me. If the Inquisition needed support, then I would do my best to convince others of its greatness. “The Inquisitor is a strong woman, even in the face of danger. She knows how to fight, she’s selfless, and she will always put others before her own needs. I have faith that she’ll be a force of good in this world.”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence between us. Florianne’s expression was still the picture of calm, yet her eyes held something else. I could feel her staring holes through me, as if she were trying to figure out if I was lying or not. I held my ground as best I could, meeting her gaze until I felt the color rise in my cheeks. 

Just when I was about to look away, she smiled. “How lucky she is, to have such a loyal...friend.” She snapped her fingers at the servant, who immediately ceased ghosting us and stepped forward to offer her the tray of drinks. She took a moment to select two of the glasses, then offered one to me with a hum. “I would like to make a toast.”

Somehow, the way she’d said “friend” made me want to cringe, but I swallowed it and took the offered glass. “What are we toasting to, Your Highness?”

“To the Inquisition, of course,” she giggled. “May it be successful in all its endeavors.”

“To the Inquisition,” I echoed, gently clinking my glass with hers. 

I should’ve known something was off the moment the Grand Duchess had offered me anything. 

I should have realized something was wrong when the servant immediately backed away and hurried out of the room, through doors with guards now on both sides.

I should have noticed the obvious lack of people in the room. Between now and the moment we’d entered the room, the other guests had disappeared.

But instead I was internally celebrating. I’d just talked the Grand Duchess, Gaspard’s sister, into supporting the Inquisition! That was a good thing right? She had the power, the wealth, and the influence to get the Inquisition anything it needed! I couldn’t wait to tell Lavellan! And Leliana! Oh, she would be so proud of me!

I sipped my drink happily, only stopping when I tasted something familiar in it. It wasn’t like the sweet champagne I’d had earlier with Varric. This was a little more sour. Or maybe pungent was a better word for it? The color was strange too. It was light pink, but it had an odd shade of purple near the bottom of the glass that made me pause. Had I ever had something like this before?

When I took the second sip, I nearly choked when I realized what the taste was.

Deathroot fruit. 

A poison of paralysis. The poison the Venatori had used on me.

Triggered by the taste, my memories arose without warning, blinding me to the real world.

_ The stone floor was cold beneath my body. The enchanted shackles locked around my limbs were too heavy to lift. The room reeked of rotten deathroot fruits and blood lotus. My tongue was coated with that disgusting mixture the mages had forced into my mouth.  _

_ “So did Lord Maliphant say what we were doing with the beast once we’re done?” the woman asked. _

_ “I heard he’s thinking about presenting its head to the Grand Duchess, if her plan succeeds,” one of the men replied. _

The Grand Duchess. How had I forgotten? There was only one person who held that title. There was only one sister of Gaspard: Florianne.

“Are you alright, Lady Herah?” a voice called. 

I blinked rapidly as the memory melted away, revealing Florianne once more. She was watching me again, her expression oddly cheerful. “You’re so pale. Perhaps you should rest for a bit.”

My entire world began to waver. I felt so weak; weaker than I had after unknowingly using dragon’s blood. The slender glass slipped from my fingers, shattering on the marble floor with a sound that made my head rattle. The pink liquid soaking into my dress, turning the hem dark. Weakness had begun to spread through me, starting in my fingertips and toes before working its way up my arms and legs. Stumbled backwards, I threw my arm out to catch myself on the wyvern statue behind me, only for my elbow to collide with the trophy’s razor-sharp teeth, opening several gashes that burned.

Cursing vividly, I lifted a hand to the wounds, to try and slow the bleeding, but the guards were faster. With a snap of the Grand Duchess’ fingers, the two brutes by the door jumped into action. They rushed to my side and restrained me, pulling my arms back and forcing me to my knees. I couldn’t fight back. Whatever strength I had fled my legs, and I could feel my knees collide with the marble. At the angle I was bent at, I had to crane my neck to see Florianne.

“What are you doing?” I cried. 

The Grand Duchess smirked, the first show of real emotion I’d ever seen from her. The sight of it unnerved me. 

“Cementing an alliance,” she replied smoothly. 

I frowned. “What are you talking about? Alliance with who?” Clearly it wasn’t the Inquisition. Lavellan would never trust her after this.

“Oh, you are a naive little fool.” She sidestepped the mess of glass I’d made, taking her time as she approached me. “Tell me. Who would love to see the Inquisition fall? To see Celene die in front of her court? Who benefits from this evening ending in chaos?” 

When I connected the dots, I wanted to slap myself for not thinking of it sooner.

“Corypheus. You’re siding with Corypheus.” I stared at Florianne with wide, disgust-filled eyes. “Why would you do that?! He’s trying to destroy everything!”

The Grand Duchess waved a hand dismissively. “I don’t need to explain myself to you. Your Inquisitor is already dead. Soon , Celene will be dead as well.” 

Her words took a moment to sink in. Suddenly the world seemed too small, the air too thin to breathe. My stomach was doing flip after flip until I was certain I would throw up. She was lying. She had to be lying. 

I needed to get to Lavellan. 

Out of habit, I bit my tongue to keep the tears back. When I realized I could still bite down with some pressure, Bull’s voice echoed softly in my mind.

_ “You may be a dragon, but dragon’s blood still affects you just like any other reaver.” _

I still had a way out. 

I would have to apologize to Bull later, for not being careful. I would have to apologize to everyone. I’d fucked up in such a huge way, I would probably never attend another gathering like this with the Inquisition. But I didn’t care. At that very moment, I had to focus on what I could do immediately, and that entailed overpowering my guards. I had to work fast.

“Gag her.”

The next few seconds were a blur. Before I could act, the guard on my right pressed his fingers into the still-bleeding gashes on my arm. Blinded by pain, I did the only thing I could think of; I opened my mouth and screamed. My voices was cut off when a thick strip of cloth was shoved between my teeth and tied behind my head. Any struggling I did was met with more pressure on my wounds, making my head swim until I could have sworn the entire room was spinning. 

Florianne was hidden from my sight now, but I could hear her heels clicking on the marble floor as she walked towards the doors. She spoke in a happy tone, clashing against the awful news she was sharing. “I do hope you like the trophy room,” she called back.  Her laugh rang out as the doors creaked open. “You’ll be staying here until the deed is done.”

And then she was gone, the heavy wooden doors slamming behind her.

This couldn’t be happening. This had to be a dream, a nightmare conjured by the Fade. There was no way Lavellan was dead, right? She was too strong to be killed by someone like Florianne! She had to be alive!

Even with my feeble hopes keeping me from total despair, I was at a loss as to what I could do. Minute after minute ticked by as I tried to think. I couldn’t move my arms and legs. I was a ragdoll being held by two full-grown men. With my wound still open and untreated, I was still losing blood. I could try to breathe fire and burn through the cloth in my mouth, but there was no guarantee I could swallow enough blood before the guards gagged me again. Hell, if I made too much of a fuss, there was a good chance they’d knock me out just to keep me still. And even if I somehow broke away from them, I wouldn’t be able to run or fight back with my entire body paralyzed. I couldn’t lift a finger, let alone my entire body.

Florianne wasn’t giving me a chance to escape.

After a while, I began to feel colder, as if I were standing in front of an air conditioner. Chills raced up and down my right arm, and I longed to yank it away from the guard and bandage my wound. Distantly, I remembered the surgeon in Skyhold talking about blood loss and how it affected a person, but I couldn’t recall any important details. My head felt fuzzy, and I couldn’t focus on anything for more than a few seconds. I fought hard to keep my mind and vision clear, but I knew that I was going to pass out eventually. There was no way I could do this on my own. I needed help.

Suddenly, I began to hear strange noises coming from the guards. They sounded as if they were choking on something. I wanted to turn around and see what they were doing, but their hands abruptly went slack and disappeared. With nothing to hold me up, I fell face-first onto the marble floor, my nose inches from the pool of poisoned liquor and glass. I struggled to move my hands, my feet, anything at all, but the poison was still coursing through my veins. If it was anything like the poison I’d experienced in the Graves, it wouldn’t wear off for some time. 

As the sound of gurgling abruptly stopped, I felt my fears resurface. What had happened? Were the guards dead? Was I about to die? Or was I just moving to a different set of enemy hands? 

“No, you are safe now.”

When Cole stepped into view and knelt by my side, I wanted to cry. He was one of the stealthiest and fastest people I knew. If anyone could get to Lavellan in time, it would be him.

_ “Cole! You have to hurry!”  _ My mouth and my vocal chords were paralyzed, so I had to make do.  _ “Lavellan’s in trouble! Florianne is the assassin!!” _

“Lavellan is safe, too,” the boy said quietly as he slipped the gag from my mouth. His eyes grew distant for a second, looking at something over my shoulder. “Duchess’ trap failed, sealed the rift, demons dead. Need to find the empress.”

Oh gods, the good news just kept coming. If Lavellan had evaded Florianne’s trap, there was a good chance the Grand Duchess could still be stopped. I could work with that.

_ “Cole, can you get to the ballroom? You need to leave me here and go protect Celene!” _

Cole frowned. “But you are hurt.”

_ “I know, but saving the Empress is more important. If she dies, Corypheus wins! You need to protect her!”  _ I tried to will my fingers to work, to show that the poison was wearing off, but I couldn’t even manage a twitch. I pushed back my frustration and locked gazes with Cole.  _ “Please, do this for me. Please! Come back when Florianne has been arrested!” _

Cole refused to move. He watched me for several long seconds, his eyes glued to the floor. What was he thinking? He couldn’t waste time like this! He needed to go help Lavellan! Who could guess what kind of backup Florianne had? She could have half the castle staff under her thumb! If that were true, Lavellan would need as much help as she could get. Leaving me here was the only way to-

“I’m not going to leave you here.” Cole’s voice was calm, but had just enough firmness to it that my thoughts quieted. I watched him puzzle something out in his head, something he wasn’t sharing with me. Was he hearing someone else? 

Then, within the span of a blink, he was gone. The trophy room doors closed with a quiet click. My heart stopped for a second, thinking that he might have heard an enemy approaching, but all I could hear was silence. No stomping boots, no clashing of swords; just silence.

I let out a shallow sigh, my eyes closing as relief flooded through me. He had finally listened to me. He’d left me to go and help Lavellan, like I’d told him to. That made me feel a million times better, despite the fact that I was now alone with two corpses. I pushed that tiny fact to the side and focused on trying to wiggle my fingers and toes.

Time passed slowly after that. I spent most of my time trying to work the feeling back into my limbs, but it was slow going. Just a few minutes of willing my fingers to move ended in only a slight twitch, and that had happened once. The poison I’d been given in the Graves had lasted for quite some time between each dose. While I wasn’t sure if Florianne’s poison was concentrated or diluted, I knew it was most likely just as potent. She would need to keep me paralyzed for a large amount of time, should things go wrong. There was a good chance she’d planned for all possible outcomes. I began to wonder if she’d ever considered the possibility of losing.

The sound of boots startled me out of my thoughts, sending my heart lurching into my throat. Someone was approaching. Had Florianne won? Was she returning with her guards to kill me, or was it someone else? I wanted it to be someone else. I wanted it to be someone on my side, on the Inquisition’s side. 

As the big wooden doors burst open with a loud crunch, I closed my eyes and braced for the worst. 

“Herah!”

My eyes snapped open at the sound of The Iron Bull’s voice. I could feel him walking towards me, his steps heavy enough to make the floor tremble. He was gentle when he turned me over, and even more so when he saw my arm. I watched his eye dart over my body, looking for any sign of other injuries. When he found none, he picked me up carefully, one arm under my shoulders and the other under my knees.

“Hang on, Herah,” he said. “I’m getting you out of here.”

Why was he here? He should have been helping Lavellan, not me. He was one of the best fighters in the Inquisition! He shouldn’t have been tending to me. Was the fighting over already? 

For the second time that night, I wanted to do nothing but ask him questions. 

Unfortunately, this time I couldn’t even force myself to talk. Not that I would’ve opened my mouth at all. I felt so ashamed of my naivety, I wanted to crawl into a hole and hide. But Bull’s hands were a warmth that kept me grounded in my head, reminding me that he would protect me. 

Upon entering the ballroom, I was immediately brought to Lavellan for healing. Somehow, the Inquisitor had pulled off two miracles; she had exposed Florianne publicly and had arrested her without a fight, and she had also managed to blackmail Gaspard, Briala, and Celene into a truce.

She explained the situation while we sat out on one of the balconies, the doors guarded by several surly-looking members of the Inquisition. As she spoke, she healed the gashes in my arm until they were jagged pink lines. It almost looked like a child had scribbled on me with a marker. 

Once the healing was done, I did my best to explain what had happened to me. Of course, I had to do this with Cole’s help, since I was still paralyzed. Lavellan listened to me all the way through, her expression slowly growing darker as Cole translated. When I finished, she stood silently and headed back into the palace, the advisors following close behind.

I was fully expecting to hop in a carriage and go somewhere else after all that. Had I been in charge, we would have gotten our shit from Gaspard’s estate, gotten on our horses, and begun the journey back to Skyhold. No more nobles, no more parties; just me, my friends, and the whole of Orlais at our backs.

And yet, we couldn’t leave just yet. With the peace talks resolved, the guests could finally focus on celebrating rather than the threat of war. And since the threat of assassination had been thwarted, the Inquisition could relax and enjoy the rest of the evening knowing they’d done a good job.

Well, most of the Inquisition. 

After Florianne’s arrest, I had no choice but to stay out on the balcony, waiting to get the feeling back in my body. With a little help from an apothecary in Celene’s employ, Lavellan was able to mix together a basic antidote for my paralysis, which I gratefully drank. I then spent a large amount of time sitting on a stone bench, trying to force my fingers and toes to move. 

At first, I couldn’t do anything more than breathe and blink. Cole stuck around for that brief period, conveying my thoughts - or at least the ones I wanted him to convey - to those around me.  Eventually, my voice returned, and I was able to communicate in whispers that gradually gained volume. 

The only good part about the waiting was that Bull sat right next to me the entire time, acting as a guardian as well as a friend. He kept any nosy nobles away from me with nothing but a glare, then turned and joked with me as if he had never looked anywhere else. Every so often, he asked me how I was feeling, trying to help me get the use of my arms and legs back without pushing me too hard. It seemed like he was genuinely worried about me. I was beyond happy to have him on my side. 

“You know,” he said casually, after the night had quieted a little, “I recall a certain someone asking me to dance tonight.”

Frozen in the middle of flexing the muscles of one leg, I felt my face instantly heat up. In the chaos of the night, I had completely forgotten. I’d been too busy focusing on good impressions, and eventually survival, that it had slipped my mind. I felt ashamed. I’d asked for that dance myself, yet now I couldn’t even handle standing for more than a minute at a time. I was still fairly weak from the poison.

“I don’t think I can dance yet,” I whispered.

“But you still want to, right?”

I looked up at him, confused. “Well, yes, but-”

“Then let’s dance.”

Before I could ask him how, he stood up and pulled me to my feet. With the way his hands held mine so gently, I couldn’t bring myself to object. I’d wanted the dance, after all. I could at least give it a try, right?

As the next song from the band filtered through the open palace doors, Bull carefully eased us into the first set of steps. It was a slow waltz; slower than the others. I was sincerely grateful for that. My energy levels were so low, I was just about ready to sleep. However, the desire to dance with Bull beat my weariness by a landslide. Just standing so close to him was enough to make my nerves fizzle.

Despite his size, Bull did an amazing job of keeping his footwork smooth and steady. He guided us around the balcony in small circles, one hand holding mine as the other pressed into the small of my back. The amount of control he had let me focus less on not tripping and more on actually enjoying myself.

Out of all the dances that night, this one was by far the best. The scenery, the clothes, the music; it was like a fairytale come true. And for a moment, just a brief moment, I was a princess dancing with all her heart. 

If only my strength had lasted just a little longer. It was is if the clock had struck midnight, signalling the end of the fairytale. Almost halfway through the dance, my steps faltered as one of my knees turned to jelly. I was fully expecting to fall down on my ass, and I braced for it with a wince.

However, Bull didn’t let me fall. His hands slipped to my waist and he lifted me up, holding me high enough that my toes didn’t touch the ground anymore. I sputtered for a good minute or two as my hands anchored themselves to his forearms.

It seemed like a simple thing, for him to hold me up, yet it felt like such an intimate gesture. I hadn’t been prepared for it at all. I could feel the muscles under his sleeves, and he could probably feel my heart hammering against my ribs. It was both absolutely thrilling and insanely terrifying. 

“S-sorry!” I stuttered. “I-I thought I’d last longer than that. I’m sorry.”

Bull shook his head, and took great care to set me down on a nearby bench. “Don’t be sorry. I still enjoyed it.” He detached my hands from his sleeves and held them in his own, his thumbs brushing lightly over my knuckles. “More importantly, did you enjoy it?”

The way he said it so casually, yet with a hint of a smouldering undertone, had my stomach doing flips. I had to swallow the lump of emotions in my throat before I could reply.

“Y-yes! I, uh...yes. I liked it a lot.” After a second’s pause, I sighed and added, “I just wish it could have lasted a little longer.” 

Bull smiled down at me. “There’s always next time.”

I blinked. “You want to dance with me again?”

“Yeah,” he said, taking the seat next to me. He let go of one of my hands, but kept the other. “There are plenty of other dances out there.”

I hummed and - through an act of either insanity or sheer exhaustion - leaned against him, my head resting against his shoulder. The world felt so calm, and I felt so content where I was. I was also probably about to pass out, I was so tired. Bull probably knew that. Even with only one eye, he was too perceptive for his own good. “Then...I guess we’ll just have to try again sometime.”

“I’ll look forward to that time, too.”

“Me too.”

We sat together for a long time, underneath the moon and the stars and the magic lights. The smell of flowers filled the air, relaxing me until my eyelids began to droop. I really was tired. It wouldn’t be bad if I got a little sleep, right?

“Hey, Bull?”

“Hmm?”

I yawned quietly. “Is it okay if I doze? Just for a little bit?”

I heard Bull chuckle - felt it too - and he replied, “Sure. Get some rest, Herah.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

I yawned again and slowly drifted off, the music and the rhythmic sound of Bull’s breathing lulling me into some much-needed sleep. 

In my dreams, I danced day and night, spinning in circles with no end in sight. My dress swirled around me like a supernova, the colors shifting and evolving with every step I took. The music was unknown, but I knew all the steps by heart. I felt powerful in that place, like I could take on anything with ease and come out on top.

It felt marvelous. 

It felt peaceful. 

It felt like home, only better.


	40. Of Lessons and Trials

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, readers! I'm back and I've got an update for you!  
> I also have some not-so-great news: As of last week I'm working again, so between that and college, updates will be sparse until December. I'm going to try and update when I can, but that might be tough. I'm sorry I've been so sporadic, I hope you guys understand. ♥

Our return to Skyhold was swift, despite our weary attitudes. The events at the Winter Palace had drained almost everyone of their willingness to deal with the country, with myself being one of the few who would have liked nothing more than to punch a noble in the face. I made a point of writing out my frustrations in my journal; an entire page of insults aimed at Orlais. It felt good to write it. It felt even better to rip the page out, crumple it up, and toss it into the campfire on the last night of the journey.

Somehow, Halamshiral had opened my eyes to the reality of my situation. I wasn’t exactly as weak as I had been on Earth, I was still much weaker than any of the other companions. I was a beginner as far as magic was concerned, and I had no skills with a weapon. I needed to change that as soon as possible.

The moment I set foot in Skyhold, I threw myself head-first into magic studies. It wasn’t too difficult to do so. I still had a few books from the library sitting in my room. The moment I was alone and somewhat unpacked, I sat down at my desk and opened the first tome.

Even after a week away from it, the reading was still as dry as I remembered it.

For the first couple of days, I was always doing something related to magic; reading, meditating, trying out new spells, or practicing older ones. If I wasn’t asking Solas for help, I was badgering Dorian or Lavellan for advice. They all seemed happy enough to help me, which I was always extremely grateful for. I wanted to be able to defend my friends again.

I no longer had the sharp teeth to do it, but I still had my claws - in a figurative sense, of course.

Naturally, my determination began to waver after the fourth day of my self-imposed lessons. Physically, I was feeling fine. Mentally, I was on the verge of a burnout. I knew I couldn’t keep going at the pace I’d set, but I couldn’t bring myself to slow down. The thought of being left behind during Lavellan’s next mission made me feel sick. I didn’t want to be left in the dust.

Krem caught me at the end of the third day; a gentle tug at my sleeve that stopped me as I passed by the tavern just as the Chargers were heading inside. He ignored my muttered protests with a shake of his head.

“I know what you’re doing,” he said, his tone a hair away from scolding. “Give yourself a rest, why don’t you?”

I arched an eyebrow at him. “I’m just practicing my magic, Krem.”

“Yes, but you’re pushing your limits.” He waggled a finger at me. “Not good. If you aren’t careful, you’ll hurt yourself.”

“I swear, Krem, I’m fine,” I insisted, trying to make my voice sound more convincing. Judging from the way Krem narrowed his eyes, it didn’t work.

“Well, at least have a drink with me in the tavern, then. You can practice all you want after that.”

As much as I wanted to keep going, I knew he was right. I needed to take a break, even if it was just a short one. “Fine,” I grumbled. “But no liquor, please. You know I don’t drink.”

Krem shrugged and slung an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close as he maneuvered me into the tavern. “Right, right. I remember.” He flashed me a pleasant smile before shouting clear across the building. “Rocky! Deal out another hand! Herah’s joining us!”

This was met with a chorus of laughs and cheers, and I immediately felt their eyes zero in on me. I hunched my shoulders a little and muttered, “I said a drink, not a game!”

“And I said to take a break.” He steered me towards the alcove the Chargers had claimed and sat me down at the table next to Dalish. “This is still a good way to relax, you know. Nothing like a little Wicked Grace to pass the time.”

“I-I don’t even know how to play!” I cried.

“Dalish will teach you!” he called back cheerfully, already halfway to the bar.

I took a moment to glare at Krem’s retreating back before turning back to Dalish, who was busy placing several cards in front of me. She rearranged them briefly before jumping headfirst into her explanation.

As it turned out, Wicked Grace was a little like poker. It didn’t have as many cards, but there were still suits of cards and each had a specific point value assigned to them. There were also poker-like hands you wanted to get, such as four of a kind and a full house.The game would end when someone drew the Angel of Death card. A hand was five cards, but you could potentially have more if you cheated. Cheating was frowned upon, but only if you got caught. Hearing that, I knew I was immediately at a disadvantage. I had no experience whatsoever with sleight of hand tricks, so I had to rely on sheer luck and gut instinct to win.

Eventually, the rest of the Chargers gathered around the table, drinks in hand, and the game began.

* * *

For the next few days, I spent the majority of my evenings playing a round or two of Wicked Grace with the Chargers. It was a pleasant distraction and one I sorely needed. Putting too much pressure on myself was no way to learn. I needed to give my brain a rest every once in awhile and playing cards was fun. Especially when I didn’t have to worry about gambling. The Chargers were nice enough to let me sit out of that, but if I just so happen to win a round when the betting was high - which I could tell they were losing on purpose - they let me keep the money, saying that I could try betting when I had a few more games under my belt.

It was on one of these nights that I finally had a conversation with the tavern musician, Maryden. When I noticed the music had stopped, I turned to see she was sitting at the bar, having a chat with the bartender. The Chargers were having an argument about whether or not Krem was cheating - which he was - and were fairly distracted. I took that moment to discard my hand and make my way over to the bar, waving to Bull as I passed him. He waggled his eyebrows at me and sipped his ale in response.

When I made it to the barstools, I realized I had no idea what to say. I couldn’t just ask to see her lute out of nowhere. That would be rude. But just going up to her and saying hello could come off as creepy. I knew she’d seen me watching her play before. It was hard to look away when she sang. She was...enchanting.

“Hello there.”

I flinched, surprised by the greeting. Maryden was no longer talking to the bartender; she was looking at me, smiling curiously at me. “Did you need something, Lady Herah?”

“O-oh! I, uh,” I stammered, my thoughts suddenly scattering to the wind. I reached for what remained and forced myself to keep going. “I just wanted to say that I, uh. I like your music. A lot.”

“Well, thank you,” the bard said. She gestured to the seat next to her, still smiling. “You can sit down if you like.”

I sat down before I could even think about running away. The bartender slid a tankard of water towards me, and I thanked him quietly before taking a sip. The water calmed my nerves, and having something in my hands made it easier to ground myself. I found myself relaxing enough to try and keep the conversation going.

“If it’s not too nosy, may I ask how many years you’ve been playing?”

Maryden hummed, her fingers drumming rhythmically on the counter. “I believe it will have been fifteen years, come next Harvestmere.”

Fifteen years. My respect for the woman doubled after hearing that. I’d only known a handful of people on Earth who would’ve put so much effort into learning how to play any kind of instrument. But fifteen years. She had me matched. I’d played the cello for almost as long. The instruments weren’t the same, but the love for music was.

“If you ever get a little free time,” I said, my voice just loud enough to be heard over the clamor of the tavern, “would you teach me how to play?”

Maryden took a slow sip of her drink, her gaze drifting away as she lost herself in thought. I tried to make myself look eager, despite wanted to hide myself away and avoid the attention. I was willing to work hard at it. I wanted music to be a part of my life again, no matter what.

After a moment of silence, the musician smiled and nodded. “You seem serious about it. I suppose it can’t hurt to show you a few basics.”  

I wanted to jump out of my seat, I was so excited! But before I could thank her properly, Maryden held up a finger and said, “However...I have some conditions.”

“Name them!” I blurted out.

“These lessons will be serious, so I will expect you to behave as such. I will tolerate no complaints about aches and pains, or that you are tired. Understood?”

I grinned, more than ready to begin. “Yes, ma’am!”

The musician laughed at my eagerness. “Then your first lesson will be tomorrow, before lunch. Meet me here, and we will begin.”

* * *

From that day, I started spending more and more time in the tavern. I spent an hour before lunch with Maryden, plucking away at her lute while listening to her explain the different strings and the notes that corresponded with them. It was a little strange at first, learning an instrument that I’d only seen in history books, but it was fun. It created music, just like a guitar did. The two of us would have our lesson by the bar, with Maryden showing me what to do while I did my best to memorize every finger position she showed me.

This process became easier when Lavellan, who was surprised to hear I was learning how to play, gifted me with a lute of my own after a few days of lessons. I was floored by the gesture, and had nearly started crying into her shoulder. While it was probably strange to see a dragon crying over a lute, I knew she understood why I couldn’t stop the tears. I’d told her of my love for music before. She knew how much it meant to me.

So I put my heart into learning how to play. I spent my lunchtime lessons learning, while my afternoons were split between music and magic. In the evening, I hung out with The Chargers, playing Wicked Grace and laughing at Bull’s stories.

Only when night fell and the tavern got more hectic did I make my excuses to leave. I still didn’t like the kind of crowd that gathered there after patrols ended. Between the wandering hands and the increase in not-so-quiet whispers flying around, it wasn’t a very enjoyable place. I knew Bull and Krem would keep me safe, but I valued my peace and quiet. I would leave through the door on the top floor, heading out onto the ramparts quickly and quietly.

Normally I would have headed straight to my room and gotten back to my studies, but my thoughts were elsewhere that night. Ever since Lavellan had given me my lute a few days ago, I hadn’t spent much time with her. Her position as Inquisitor didn’t allow for much free time, especially when back at Skyhold. I wanted to convince her to take the rest of the evening off, or at least take a quick break with me.

I set off on my mission immediately. If I knew Lavellan, she would be in one of three places: her tower, Solas’ rotunda, or the garden. The garden was the easiest to check, since it was the closest to my tower. A brief search of the area turned up nothing. I moved on to her tower.

I took the stairs two at a time, and my muscles were burning a little by the end of the climb, but I made it. The door was closed, as usual, so I did the polite thing and knocked. Lavellan had said I was always welcome, but it felt rude to just barge in. So I stuck with knocking and waiting for her answer.

When there was no immediate answer, I knocked again, this time a little louder. I couldn’t hear anything beyond the heavy wooden door, even when I leaned my ear against it. No shouting or footsteps. Had she already fallen asleep?

I raised my hand to knock again when the door swung in slightly, revealing Lavellan. She was dressed for bed, wearing a cotton nightgown that barely reached her knees. Her hair was unbraided and mussed, a tangle of brown waves that fell over her shoulder.

“Oh, Herah! What brings you up here?” she said. I noticed her cheeks were flushed as well, the green branches of her vallaslin standing out against her tanned skin.

“I was thinking you might need the night off from your Inquisitor duties, so I was wondering if I could bother you for a bit,” I replied sheepishly. “But it looks like you were sleeping. I’m sorry if I woke you.”

Lavellan smiled and stepped out into the stairwell, her hand coming to rest on my shoulder. “I appreciate your concern, _lethallan_. You’re sweet to think of me. I decided earlier today to take tonight off.”

“Then...I should let you get back to sleep. I hope you have a good rest.”

“And you as well, Herah.”

I smiled and waved as Lavellan returned to her room, where she returned my wave before closing the door. With nothing else to do, I descended the stairs to the main hall, feeling the quiet pull of sleep myself. Sleep sounded nice. After all my hard work lately, I deserved a good night’s sleep. I could always practice more in the morning. It’s not like my lute was going anywhere.

As I passed by the door to Solas’ rotunda, I paused. It had been eight days since our return from Orlais. Surely, Solas had made some progress on my necklace by now. The sooner I got it back, the happier I would be. Magic or not, it was the only physical connection I still had to my aunt.

Much to my surprise, Solas wasn’t present in his workspace. Usually, he spent his evenings meditating or studying his enormous tomes, yet that night he was gone. Maybe he’d just stepped out for a moment? There was a chance I’d passed him, since I’d been so set on finding Lavellan.

As I turned to leave, something on Solas’ desk sparkled out of the corner of my eye. I turned back and scanned the desk for the sparkle in question, only to find my hourglass pendant resting on top of a piece of paper. Before I knew it, I’d stepped up to the desk and picked up the tiny thing. The tarnished silver felt warm in my palm. The red sand inside glittered in the flickering torchlight.

How long had it been since I’d first awoken in Thedas? The current date was the thirteenth of Wintermarch. I had appeared early in the month of Kingsway, a few weeks before the time magic incident in Redcliffe. Taking those dates into consideration, I’d only been in Thedas for five months, give or take a week. It felt like so much longer than that. So much had happened to me in such a short amount of time. I’d made friends and enemies, learned about the wonders of magic, and had lived as both a dragon and a human. I’d even found myself a ragtag sort of family.

I clutched the hourglass tightly in my palm, a wave of nostalgia washing over me. I was happy with my current situation, and yet I longed for the easy life I’d led on Earth. I missed waking up to my tiny cabin in the woods, to my cello and my bookcase of sheet music. I missed my aunt and her stories. I missed the quiet of it all.

In a daze, I wandered back to my room and closed the door, my hourglass now hanging around my neck. Despite having no prior headache, my head felt like it was filled with cotton. I undressed slowly, my movements sluggish as I dropped everything but the pendant to the floor and crawled into bed. I no longer had the energy to stay awake.

I drifted off the moment my head hit the pillow. That night, my dreams were filled with the roar of dragons and the smell of mud and living green.

* * *

The next morning, I awoke to Lavellan sitting on my bed, gently shaking my shoulder. She looked fairly refreshed after her night off. She must’ve gotten a decent night’s sleep. Unlike me.

I groaned and tried to pull the blanket up over my head. “Mmmh. What is it?”

“The Inquisition is gathering for a trial. I need you beside me, _lethallan_ ,” the elf replied.

Well, that was one way to get me out of bed.

Trials weren’t something the Inquisition did every day. Sure, we’d judged Alexius and the mayor of Crestwood, but those had been almost a month apart. There had also been one trial I could never forget. There was nothing like waking up one morning to find an Avvar chieftain lobbing goats at the fortress with a catapult. That trial hadn’t lasted more than a few minutes, and the Inquisition had walked away with a slew of new agents.

Lavellan was a good judge. She didn’t let bias cloud her verdicts. She did what was best for the Inquisition, not what the public thought was deserved. I admired her for that. Had I been in her position, I knew I would’ve let my emotions get the better of me.

“Who is on trial today?” I asked as I began sifting through my clothes, looking for an unwrinkled tunic.

Lavellan sighed softly, dread coloring her voice. “The former Grand Duchess, Florianne de Chalons.”

I froze on the spot, my eyes widening in the small wardrobe mirror. Had Lavellan said any other name, I would have frowned and continued dressing. Yet there I was, half dressed and ready to break something already. I had to force myself to take a long, deep breath and exhale slowly.

“Are you sure you want me there?” I mumbled as I pulled on the closest pair of pants I could reach. “I’m not sure my being in the same room as her is a good thing.”

I could hear Lavellan stand and walk over to me, her footsteps soft as she stepped up to my back. I couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped me when she picked up the hairbrush on my desk and began brushing my hair, her nails softly grazing my scalp.

“I know it’s not ideal for you, but trust me. You heard her confession. I need you there. Please, Herah.”

I pursed my lips, my gaze dropping to the floor in defeat. I couldn’t say no to her, not even when I would be facing someone like Florianne. I had to do it.

“Okay...I’ll go,” I said. By then, Lavellan had just finished brushing my hair and was giving me a number of small braids. She immediately stopped and pressed a kiss to the top of my head.

“Thank you. But...you should finish dressing before we go.”

I groaned and swatted playfully at her. “I know! Now help me find my boots.”

* * *

The main hall was packed with people all eager to watch the coming trial. Many of them were Orlesian nobles, their gaudy masks making the affair feel like a party rather than a solemn event. There was a good chance Florianne was going to die, yet they all tittered and gawked as even more people filed in.

I stood by the Inquisitor’s throne, my hands clasped behind my back and my eyes focused on the far end of the hall. I was putting on my best scary face, but my insides were a mess. I was nervous about facing Florianne. While it was possible she would do nothing, there was also a good chance she might try something. She was cornered and had nothing left to lose. Those were the scariest kind of people.

The trial began the moment Florianne was brought up from the dungeons. Her dress looked a little worse for wear and she kept her eyes on the floor, but overall she looked to be in one piece. The idea of her still living with any kind of comfort made my stomach roll. She had nearly killed so many people, myself included. I could almost taste the tainted drink she’d given me, laced with the poison that’d had immobilized me for hours. She didn’t deserve any kind of comfort.

“Out of your element, Florianne?” Lavellan called from her throne. “Welcome to the Inquisition. My party.”

Florianne raised her eyes to the elf, stared, and quietly huffed. I bristled at her attitude. Only Josephine’s voice kept me from stepping down from the dais and making a scene.

“Despite her posture, Lady Florianne has acknowledged your authority,” the ambassador said.

“Should I curse you on behalf of the Elder One?” Florianne scoffed. “I realize he had no intentions of honoring the concordats I manipulated. Do as you must. I respect your mastery of The Game, even as I despise your victory.” She lowered her eyes to the floor again, adding quietly, “Celene does not know her fortune.”

Lavellan was silent for a moment after that, her green eyes boring holes through the former Grand Duchess, as she considered her options. While I was eager to leave, I wanted to know what Lavellan’s idea of “just punishment” was. Would she put Florianne to work with commoners? Or perhaps exile was on the table? No, exile was too good for Florianne. She deserved something worse. Something long-term and riddled with hardships. Common work would have been my choice.

Eventually, Lavellan sighed and sat back on her throne, her expression solemn.

“She remains a creature of formality and opportunity. We have use for both,” she said. “Grand Duchess. Josephine will see that your wiles profit the Inquisition. Do not disappoint us.”

At first, I didn’t quite understand what Lavellan’s words meant. I was still too focused on Florianne getting some kind of punishment. But when a sly smile appeared on the former noble’s face and the guards began unshackling her, I had to run Lavellan’s words through my head again.

_We have a use for both._

 

She was letting Florianne get away scot-free.

“No.”

Lavellan sighed next to me, her posture relaxing as Florianne was led away. “Herah, please be calm. I know it’s not the outcome you desired, but-”

“You’re damn right that’s not what I wanted!” I snarled lowly. “Where was her punishment?! You are letting her keep her life because the Inquisition can use her?!”

“Because we _can_ use her,” she replied lowly, her eyes narrowing. “She knows the names of many of the Venatori leaders. It is an advantage we need.”

I couldn’t stop the disgust from showing on my face. “She was willing to give the world to the Elder One, and you want her to act as a double agent? She’ll betray you.”

“Us.”

I paused. “What?”

“She would betray _us_ , _lethallan_. Not just me.”

A snort escaped me then, echoing in the grand hall. “Ah, right. Because I had a hand in this decision. Because I wanted the woman who poisoned and would have killed me to walk away unscathed from this. Clearly that was in my best interest.”

It was an awful thing to say, but it felt good to say it anyway. I watched the way Lavellan’s expression tightened, the way her brows knit together. It could’ve been sorrow on her face, or maybe frustration, but I didn’t care. I turned my back to her and began walking away before she could open her mouth. “I’m done here.”

“Herah, we still have an important guest to greet,” the elf called after me, her voice firm.

Ignoring my better judgement, I turned and bowed low at the waist, my expression the picture of disdain. “Forgive me, _Inquisitor_ , if I don’t give a Fereldan _shit_ about who is coming. I said I’m done.”

And with that, the damage was done.

I stormed from the main hall, my pulse pounding in my ears and drowning out Lavellan’s response. I was beyond disgusted. Florianne deserved a lifetime of sitting in a dark dungeon, alone with her thoughts. She deserved a difficult life, after the choices she’d made. There was a part of me that said she deserved death. So much chaos could have been avoided had she simply chosen a different side. It wasn’t fair that she got to return to her pampered lifestyle just because the Inquisition needed her cooperation. I should’ve had a say in the trial.

There was, however, a small voice in the back of my mind that said I was being naive.

Even if Florianne had chosen to side with the Inquisition, the Elder One would have found some other way to kill Celene and cast Orlais into chaos. What would our chances have been then?

As I passed through the gardens, I slowed down until I was standing still, leaning my weight against one of the stone columns. I remembered my thoughts from earlier in the day, about how Lavellan was a good judge because she did her best to remain unbiased. I understood why she had to do that. What I didn’t understand was why she had wanted me there. She should have known how I would react; that I would be unhappy unless Florianne had gotten some kind of punishment. How could she not have known that?

I turned to take the stairs up to the ramparts, but something stopped me. It felt like the tug of a leash, as if something had a hold of my heart and was pulling me back. I started walking without realizing it, stepping out into the garden and heading towards the gazebo at the far side. As I approached, the pull got stronger and stronger, along with a strange feeling. I couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was exactly. It felt like how someone might feel after returning home after a long vacation, but slightly different. It was more distant than that. A cold sort of nostalgia.

Then I saw the boy. He was sitting in the shade of the gazebo, his eyes glued to the open book in his lap. He couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven years old. He felt familiar, yet I had never met him before in my life.

When he looked up, his golden eyes meeting mine, I waved nervously at him. He smiled, closed his book, and stood up.

“You’re the dragon lady,” he said. His voice sounded so small, but I felt like I was talking to someone much older than I was.

“Ah, yes. I’m Herah.” I reached up and tapped a finger against one of my horns. “A little bit of a giveaway, right?”

The boy shook his head. “I noticed your spirit. It does not match your body. You are a human.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but found my voice missing. How could he know such a thing? Had someone told him? The only ones who knew that I wasn’t really a dragon were Solas and Lavellan. Had one of them let my secret slip? Oh gods, the damage one child could do was immense.

“Ah ha, that’s funny,” I blurted out nervously. “But I assure you, I _am_ a dragon. I-”

A whisper from the boy silenced my growing anxiety. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Wha-?” I stared at him incredulously, confusion replacing my worry in a flash. “Wh-who are you exactly?”

The boy smiled. “My name is Kieran.”

Kieran. I had never heard the name before, but it sent another wave of strange nostalgia through me. How was it possible to feel this way about someone I’d never met before? He was a complete stranger, and yet there was something in his eyes that made my mind falter. His presence was powerful, but he was a few inches shorter and several years younger than me. In a way, I felt like I needed to bow before a king or a prince.

But the strangest thing of all was the absolute certainty that I had felt this way before. I had met someone else with this presence.

Who had that been?

“I-I...I have to go,” I said softly. My hands were trembling as I hurried away, towards the stairs. My heart was racing, beating against my ribs as if it were trying to escape. I forced myself to breathe as I climbed the stairwell and dashed the rest of the way to my room. Only when the door slammed shut did I allow the worries and anxieties to roll over me.

How the hell had that Kieran known about me? How had he known that I was not truly a dragon? Someone had to have told him. Solas? Lavellan? It had to have been one of them.

I sucked in a haggard breath and shuffled to my bed, where I promptly curled up and hid under the covers. There was no use tormenting myself over who had spilled my secret. I still had plans to tell the rest of the companions about myself later, when the right opportunity presented itself. I just needed to believe - albeit naively - that this Kieran kid would keep it to himself for the time being.

What I needed to know was why he felt so familiar. I had met someone like him before, hadn’t I? Someone I had bowed to. Someone who was terrifying and powerful. Someone who had demanded respect with a single look.

Then, within the span of a blink, I could recall another memory.

_I remembered the stench of the swamp and its dense green vegetation. When I closed my eyes, I could see my aunt walking ahead of me, her steps certain as she wove her way between trees being strangled by vines. When I looked up, I could see the vivid blue of the sky, and the twin moons of Thedas hanging high overhead._

_A strange new world._

_A second chance._

_An adventure in the making._

_Then Ellen stopped walking. She stood inches from a clearing, her hand outstretched. She turned and said something to me, then smiled and stepped forward. She disappeared. Terrified, I quickly followed her. It felt like passing through a wall of heat, and it smelled like ink and copper._

_Beyond the strange wall was a temple. It looked almost Greek, with its tall marble columns and mural carvings on its walls. Despite being in a swamp, it was in pristine condition. Nothing was crumbling or broken. It looked extremely out of place._

_I froze in place when a woman emerged from the temple. Her hair was long and black, held back by a white headdress that looked like a skull with spiraled horns. She wore a very revealing red dress with a black corset cinched around her waist. She carried a staff decorated with yet another horned skull. Looking at her, I could tell that this strange woman was powerful._

_The only thing more intimidating than her was the large dragon perched on top of the temple, its teeth bared in a snarl. Smoke billowed from between its teeth. The ground shook from just a growl. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from it._

_When I didn’t respond, my aunt gently took my hand and said something quietly to me. A name. The name of this strange temple._

When I opened my eyes, I was back in my room in Skyhold, the sheets pulled up to my ears. The light outside had shifted, telling me that I had missed several hours of the day. I sat up and rubbed my eyes, the early signs of a headache moving through my head. But that was nothing. At least one good thing had come of today.

I lifted the hourglass pendant from my neck and held it up to the light. Inside, the sand shifted slightly, sending a few crimson grains down into the bottom chamber.

I knew the name of the temple from my memory.

The Silent Grove.


	41. Frustration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaay, an update! I'm still sick, but I was able to finish at least this much. Let me know if you guys spot any errors. I'm unsure of when the next update will be, but I'll try and keep you guys updated via the TDS blog.

The moment I was fully back in reality, I began writing in my journal. I did my best to recall the details of that strange temple. Every twig and leaf and rock; nothing was too small to remember. I even tried to draw the ruin in the empty space next to the date. The columns were crooked and the dragon looked more like a dog, but it helped clear my head.

The Silent Grove.

When that name echoed my mind, I knew I had to find it. I had to find that place tucked away in the swamp, hidden among the trees and behind the strange wall of magic. It had to be somewhere in Thedas. But where could I start looking?

The library sounded like a decent place to begin. It had to have some kind of world atlas, right?

Spurred on by my new mission, I rushed to the rotunda, taking the long way along the ramparts to avoid the gardens. I wanted to get there fast, but I didn’t want to risk running into that boy, Kieran. He seemed genuinely nice, and yet he gave off such a strange aura. Avoiding him seemed like a better plan.

When I arrived at the library, I found it mostly empty. It was almost lunchtime, so many of the soldiers and mages that lingered in the library had already headed to the mess hall. I found myself alone with a handful of Tranquil and a few studious mages. I decided this was a good thing, as there would be a smaller chance of someone asking me what I was doing. I wanted answers, not distractions.

Unfortunately, I ended up spending more time reading book titles than the books themselves. It was a frustrating endeavor, and I forced myself to ask one of the Tranquil for help. Seeing as they basically knew every book in the library, they procured several tomes for me, each on a different country in Thedas. Once the Tranquil had left me alone, I opened up my journal to a new page, set out my inkwell and quill, and opened up the first book.

At first, my search yielded nothing. I spent days pouring over each book, trying to find any possible match. No book mentioned the Silent Grove outright. It was a frustrating search. And with my magic and music lessons taking up my mornings, it took me a little over two weeks to find anything of worth. It was positively mind-numbing.

The book on Ferelden was less than helpful. They were known for two types of weather: sunny and snowy. The summers were usually somewhat cool, while the winters were bitterly cold. The only noteworthy swamp in the country was the Fallow Mire, and it was rainy, not humid. No, there was no way the Silent Grove was in Ferelden.

The next book was on Orlais. While Orlais had warmer climates than Ferelden, it still didn’t have many swamps. There was one possible match; a forest called The Arbor Wilds. The book said it was technically a jungle, but few had ever explored it. Terrifying beasts were said to live there, slaughtering whatever or whoever wandered too close to its borders.

Could the “terrifying beasts” have been dragons? It was a lead, but I still had plenty of books to read. I jotted down a few notes in my journal and moved on.

As the days blurred together, I search became more fruitful. Aside from the forest in Orlais, Nevarra had a possible match. The Silent Plains had a sort of matching name, but the map I studied only showed its general location, not its climate. A little more reading revealed it to be more of a desert than a plain. With a weary sigh, I crossed the name off and picked up the next book.

The next book was an overload of information. The Free Marches were covered with forests and marshes. There was a particularly dense forest surrounding Starkhaven and part of the Minanter River. I wrote down the Green Dales as well, though only because of the name.

Tevinter proved to be no challenge at all. The maps I studied were hugely detailed. The country seemed to be more mountains and hills than anything. It had a few forests here and there, but no swamps were named. I wanted to ask Dorian if he could name any swamps, but I bit my tongue and kept reading. I could pester him later if I couldn’t find any other locations. The same went for The Iron Bull and asking questions about Seheron and Par Vollen. I didn’t want to bring anyone else into this until absolutely necessary.

By the time two weeks had passed, I was close to giving up entirely. I was sick of the whole search, of sitting inside day after day with my nose stuck in a book. I hadn’t played a game of Wicked Grace with the Chargers in a week; they had a mission in the Hinterlands keeping them busy. Practicing with my lute had ground to a halt, though my lessons with Maryden continued sporadically as she split her time between me and writing her own music. I had become so consumed by my search that I’d even begun skipping meals to save time.

Then, as the sun began to set on my last day of reading, I found the book on Antiva.

The country was covered by plenty of forests and plains, with a sprawling coastline that boasted countless port cities and fishing villages. It was rich in wealth and culture, as well as danger. Two things about it caught my eye.

One. The climate was outrageously humid most of the year.

Two. There was a huge swamp right in the middle of the country. The Tellari Swamps.

It felt as if the sky had opened up and a ray of sunshine was shining down on me. There was no way The Silent Grove could be anywhere else. The Tellari Swamps were enormous; at least hundred miles wide and stretching from the Free Marches to the Arlathan Forest. That place was my best bet.

Once I scribbled down several more notes on the swamps, I returned the book to its shelf and exited the library. I was smiling as I walked through the fortress, but that slowly changed as I passed through the courtyard. My smile had faded as my thoughts focused on the next step.

While it was good that I had made a list of places the Silent Grove might be in, I still had a lot of work to do. How exactly was I going to get from Skyhold all the way to Antiva? I couldn’t ride a horse. There were too many risks. The horse could die or get hurt. I could get attacked by bandits or beasts. I could get lost or sick. If I wasn’t careful, I could end up dead. I was still new to Thedas. I had little to no experience on my own. I could take a ship from Denerim, but that would require money. Even if I had the money for a trip, I had horns. Most people in Thedas thought of a demon when they saw them. No sane person would let a “demon” on board their ship.

There was no way I could get to Antiva. Not on my own. As much as I just wanted to hop on a horse and go, I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t stupid. I knew the world was dangerous. Even with Solas teaching me about magic, I could barely keep a barrier in place for a minute. I still refused to drink lyrium, so I was stuck resting until my mana regenerated. I was a walking target.

Still, the fact remained that I needed to get there. I needed to find the Silent Grove. There was a chance I might find my aunt there, or maybe the lady in the red dress.

If I asked Lavellan about it, would she help me? I honestly couldn’t say. She had left over a week ago for Emprise du Lion. I would have to wait until she returned to ask. Did I want to ask? Not really. I was still pissed off about her releasing Florianne. I didn’t feel like I could trust her any more. Or maybe I was just being petty. I didn’t want to think about it.

I sighed as I slowed my pace, my eyes drifting to the castle gates and the huge stone bridge just beyond it. The desire to run was like a vice around my heart, aching with every beat. I felt trapped within Skyhold’s walls, in this place I called home. Knowing what lay out there, somewhere far to the north, made me feel suffocated. My aunt was out there somewhere. The place in my memory was, too. I needed to find both, and I couldn’t do that by sitting on my hands.

Tearing my eyes away from the bridge, I hurried towards the stables. I could see horsemaster Dennett sitting in the shade of the stables, cleaning his tools. He knew the horses best. If anyone could answer my questions, or at least a few of them, it would be him.

“Horsemaster Dennett!” I called out. When he looked up, I jogged the rest of the way over and put on my best smile. “Do you have a few minutes? I was hoping I could ask you a few questions about the horses.”

The horsemaster hummed before replying, “I’ve got some spare time. What do you need?”

Feeling a tiny burst of relief, I launched into a string of questions I hoped weren’t too strange. What was the fastest breed the Inquisition had? What breed was the easiest for beginners to ride? How far could they travel in a day? Did they need special food? How did saddling a horse work? How hard was it to ride a hart or a dracolisk?

I felt like an idiot for asking such weird questions, but Dennett seemed to enjoy answering them. He guided me through the stables, stopping occasionally at a stall and explaining the differences in speed between the various breeds. A Taslin Strider was good for long distances, but could be unruly if its rider was green. A Ferelden Forder was fairly tame, but was ill-suited for long journeys. Harts were extremely fast, but were for experienced riders only. The same went for dracolisks, who tended to nip at anything within reach.

Depending on the type of mount, a journey to Denerim could take three weeks to a month, and that time didn’t account for weather and terrain conditions. I wrote down as much as I could in my journal, filling almost two pages with nearly illegible notes on horses. I would do the calculations in my room, where I had privacy.

I thanked the horsemaster profusely afterwards, my heart feeling a little lighter. Dennett just waved off my thanks, saying it was nice to hear someone so interested in the mounts.

“If I may ask,” he said as I turned to leave, “why are you so curious about riding? Are you looking to learn?”

Scrambling for an answer, I fidgeted with the pages of my journal. “I, uh. I suppose I should learn. I mean, I’ve never tried riding on my own. I’m scared I’ll end up spooking my horse and it’ll throw me off.” It wasn’t technically a lie. It wasn’t the reason why I was asking, but it was still an honest fear of mine.

Dennett smiled and nodded. “That’s fair, but it’s a good skill to have. Come talk to me if you feel like giving it a shot. I promise I’ll go easy on you.”

I chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”

The horsemaster nodded and headed back into the stables, leaving me to my next challenge. I knew how far a horse could go in a day. I could do the calculations on how long a trip to Denerim would take. Now I needed to figure out the cost of that trip. I had a few people I could ask. Varric seemed to know a good deal about money. So did Josephine. The only problem with Varric was that he was a trained liar. He would easily be able to see through any lie I told, and might try to talk my plan out of me. As much as I wanted to trust him, I didn’t need him snooping. My only choice was Josephine.

I found the ambassador in her office, curled up on the couch by the fireplace. A blanket was tucked over her legs, and a low fire was crackling away in the hearth. Josie was reading something in her lap, a book of some kind. I couldn’t make out the text, but her wistful expression made me think it was some kind of romance novel. Nothing too important, then.

Coughing quietly, I waited until Josie looked up to enter the room. “Hello, Josephine. I don’t mean to disturb you, but...may I ask you something?”

“Of course, Herah,” she said warmly. She closed her book and beckoned me forward. “Please, sit down.”

As I stepped closer to the ambassador, my mind began to race. I couldn’t just outright ask her how much a ship from Ferelden to Antiva would cost. That would tip her off immediately. No, I needed to come up with something else. A cover story, of sorts.

“Herah?”

Thrown off by the concern in Josephine’s voice, I quickly sat down on the edge of the couch and folded my hands in my lap. I was trying so hard to come up with a fake reason for my questions, but my mind wouldn’t work. I just kept thinking that I needed to go, to steal a horse and start riding for Denerim, risks be damned. The idea of lying to Josephine felt so wrong that my stomach began to tie itself in knots. What was I going to do?

“Is there something on your mind?” Josephine asked. I felt her hand softly brush against my shoulder, and I willed myself to take a deep breath.

“I-I’m sorry, Josephine,” I blurted out. “I’m...I’m not sure how to say what I’m thinking.”

Josephine nodded, her eyes filled with kindness. “It is quite alright, my dear. Take as long as you need.”

Her gentle voice somehow undid one of the knots in my stomach, allowing me to put a few of my thoughts in order. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her settle back against the arm of the couch, her slender fingers running along the spine of her book. She didn’t look the least bit perturbed by my silence. She was truly a kind person. I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of life she’d had to make her so caring.

Suddenly, an idea struck me.

Josephine was Antivan. She had grown up in that country, though I wasn’t sure where. She had made the journey from there to the foot of the Frostback Mountains. If I asked her a few subtle questions about her journey and her home country, would I get the answers I wanted?

“Josephine,” I said, “can I ask you about Antiva?”

Josephine arched a delicate eyebrow, a small smile on her lips. “You wish to know about Antiva?”

“Yes!” I added quickly, turning to face her. “What is it like there? Are there dragons there? How far away is it? Is it always hot there? What is the land like?”

The ambassador’s smile grew larger at my enthusiasm. “I believe I can answer those questions. What would you like to know first?”

I pursed my lips for a moment, mentally sorting through my questions. I had a purpose, but I needed to keep that hidden for now. I had to make it sound like I was just asking questions for the sake of asking.

I straightened up in my seat, my hands relaxing a little in my lap. “Can you tell me about the land itself?”

* * *

Some time later, after the moon had risen high and bright in the sky, I returned to my room with a feeling of accomplishment filling my chest. Josephine’s description of Antiva had been much more helpful than I’d hoped for. Not only had she told me about the country’s terrain, people, and culture, but she had described to me one of the legends of the country.

“I once heard a rumor that a Witch of the Wilds lived in the Tellari Swamps,” she had said. “It is said that she enthralled dragons, and that she would kill the hunters who sought to harm them.”

I had asked if anyone had ever seen her, but Josephine had shaken her head, saying that those who had seen her had given a different description of her every time.

Hearing that rumor had lit a fire inside me. If it was to be believed, there was a chance that the woman from my memory was the Witch of the Wilds. What I recalled of her appearance seemed to fit the concept of a “witch”.

Now I knew almost for certain that The Silent Grove was in the Tellari Swamps.

Unfortunately for me, the Inquisition had no reason to go to Antiva, let alone the swamps. If I was going to get there, I would have to figure out how to do it on my own. The only other option was to give up, and there was no way that was going to happen.

And yet...

I sat down on my bed with a sigh, my journal heavy in my hands.

I wanted to go. I wanted to explore the swamps and find The Silent Grove.

There was so much to do. It was too much to think about, but my mind was racing with possibilities. Judging from a few simple calculations, it would take me two months to travel over land, or one month by sea. Terrain and weather would factor in even more time. I would need food, either from towns I passed through or from hunting.

I didn’t know how to hunt or forage. The plants of this world were still foreign. I didn’t know the land at all. There were beasts out there who would tear me apart the moment they saw me. The same went for people. I had very little money, and I had never tried bartering before.

I had to accept it. I was woefully unprepared for any kind of journey alone. I would have to make it with a group, or not at all. And any request for travel, no matter how large or small, would most likely find its way to Lavellan’s desk.

Suddenly feeling a headache coming on, I sprawled out on my bed and lifted a hand towards the ceiling. After a few seconds, I had a chain of tiny lights winding between my fingers, shimmering like faroff stars. Magic was amazing. With enough practice, I would be able to bend the elements to my will and use them in battle. And yet, for some reason, levitation and teleportation were impossible to perform. I cursed that fact over and over in my mind, grimacing as the frustration inside me grew until my chest ached with it.

This was going to kill me. This frustration, this anger at myself for being so dependent on others; it was like an infection inside me, festering until I felt nothing but hot rage and the urge to hit something.

Dispelling the lights, I stood from the bed and walked over to my desk. I needed to distract myself before I did something stupid. Maybe music would work. Practicing always made me feel at peace, or at least a little less stressed than before I started. And I hadn’t practiced in a while. It was worth a shot.

I picked up the lute leaning against my wardrobe and plucked at the strings. A moment was all it took to tune it, and I soon I was plunking out random notes as I tried to recall the songs I knew. I hadn’t practiced anything from Earth in so long that I was worried that I had forgotten it all. Fortunately, that part of my memory seemed to be in order. I could still recall plenty of pieces.

Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I played the first few notes of an easy song.

_I am flesh and I am bone. Rise up, ting ting, like glitter and gold._

I could remember playing for my aunt multiple times, the notes of my guitar ringing in the air as she recited the lyrics she knew. Her eyes had always seemed so distant when we played a duet, as if she were lost in her own memories. She seemed older in those moments.

_I’ve got fire in my soul. Rise up, ting ting, like glitter…_

I paused, suddenly feeling cold. Without my aunt around to listen, the words felt hollow and empty. I missed her so much that I couldn’t even play the music she liked without feeling like I was abandoning her. And in a way, I was. What if she was looking for me? If she were, she wouldn’t stop just because she didn’t know the land. She would do her damndest to find me, no matter how long it took. We were family. She deserved as much from me.

I let out a groan of frustration that quickly turned into an angry snarl. I no longer felt like playing. I wanted to run from Skyhold at full speed, horse or no horse. Damn the risks and damn the waiting! It had been so long since my last memory had surfaced that I couldn’t think of anything else. The need to fill in the gap in my memory was too strong to ignore.

Leaving my lute on the bed, I ducked out of my room and walked briskly along the ramparts. I wasn’t sure what I was doing, but I needed to do something to get rid of my stress. Music wasn’t going to help. When I had gotten like this on Earth, to this point where even music hadn’t helped calm me down, I’d settled for taking a long walk through the forest or heading to the lake to swim. Too much pent-up energy would only make me explode later.

So, without a lake to swim in, I settled for walking. Beneath the moon’s pale light, I stalked the entire length of the ramparts. Once. Twice. Three times, I looped around the fortress. My legs were barely burning by then, and I was even more tense than before.

I groaned when I realized I’d just been pacing on a larger scale. I wasn’t taking a nice, leisurely stroll through a forest. I was stomping in a circle, trapped inside a fence of stone.

Looking out towards the mountains, my gaze once again settled on the great stone bridge. My pulse jumped at the sight of it. It wouldn’t take me long to walk across. Five minutes? Not even that much? I could just walk across and follow the path to the forest at the foot of the mountain. Even a walk like that would make me feel better, right?

No, that wasn’t true at all.

I sank to the ground, drawing my knees up to my chest and resting my arms on them. My back was chilled against the cold stone wall. Every breath I took stung my lungs. Any kind of forest was a day’s ride away, not a ten minute walk. This was a mountain. There were no trees to climb here, no lakes to swim in.

I dropped my head onto my arms, closing my eyes tightly as my breathing sped up.

I felt like I was suffocating.

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to run.

“Herah.”

My head jerked up at the sound, eyes wide and fixed on the figure approaching me. To my surprise, it wasn’t a patrol or a soldier who stood over me. It was The Iron Bull. I hadn’t heard him approach.

“You should be sleeping, not sitting out in the cold,” he said softly.

“C-couldn’t sleep,” I wheezed, trying to make my voice as even as possible. I looked away and fought the urge to hide my face in my arms. “Didn’t know you were back.”

“We returned earlier today,” he replied with a shrug. “Mission wasn’t too tough.”

“You should sleep.”

“I’ll be fine.” Before I could protest, he took a seat on the ground beside me. In the moonlight, I could see the scars and marks that peppered his grey skin. I hid my face in my arms then, worried I would be caught staring.

“So what’s got the dragon of Skyhold sitting out in the dark, freezing her toes off?” he asked. His tone was joking, but I couldn’t stop the feeling frustration that passed over me.

“Like I said,” I grumbled, “I couldn’t sleep. Nothing to do but wait.”

“But you could be nice and warm in your room, not sitting out here in the cold.”

When I remained silent, Bull sighed. “Fair enough. I’ll just sit with you, then.”

I wanted to protest; to tell him to go back to bed and leave me alone. And yet, the warm body next to me was comforting. Bull wasn’t a stranger. He was my friend. He had seen me having an attack before. We’d talked about it a few times in the tavern, when there was a lull between card games. It seemed anxiety was something some people had in Thedas, though their treatments were...less than ideal. So I had shared my own coping mechanisms with him.

When his hand settled gently between my shoulderblades, I felt my pulse slow down a tiny bit. The touch was grounding. It gave me something to anchor myself to when I felt like I was falling. Knowing that he was sitting there, silent but willing to help me, gave me the chance to slow my breathing down.

Eventually, when my heart wasn’t trying to kick its way out of my ribs, I gave the qunari a tired smile. “Thank you, Bull.”

He returned the smile with one of his own; a crooked one that was both cheerful and comforting. “Anytime. Need a hand getting up?”

I shook my head. “I’m okay. I just...need to be outside a little longer.”

“Mind if I stay with you, then?”

“Nah. You can stay, but don’t complain if you’re tired in the morning.”

Bull snorted and gave me a pat on the back. “Don’t worry about me. I’m more worried about you and why you’re in a panic.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “Something on your mind?”

For a moment, I wasn’t sure what to do. I wanted to share my worries with Bull and confide in him, but he still didn’t know I was technically human. I couldn’t just share anything. I needed to be careful of what I said. However, I wasn’t sure I could do that. I didn’t have the mental stamina to come up with a lie at that moment, and I was having trouble recalling any stories I’d told him. There were so many risks that it seemed like a hugely bad idea.

Maybe it was time for a little honesty.

“Bull...can you keep a secret?” I asked, my voice loud enough for only him to hear.

“I think I can do that,” he replied. His tone was light, but his expression was serious. I felt better seeing that.

“The truth is...I lost my memory some time ago,” I continued. “Just a few days before I met the Inquisition and the Chargers on the Storm Coast, I’d woken up in a cave. I couldn’t remember anything. My name, my age, where I was; I had nothing. I joined up with you all because you were kind and I was scared.”

Bull’s hand was still on my back, warm and comforting and grounding. I took a slow breath and continued.

“But now, things have changed. Ever since I...I changed in Emerald Graves, I’ve been remembering things, little by little. Where I was before my memory was lost. Who I was with. They’re little snippets, like puzzle pieces, and I’ve been slowly putting them back together. Then, two weeks ago, I regained what feels like a big memory. And in that memory, there was this place that I...well, that I feel like I need to visit.” I stifled a yawn and rubbed my eyes. “So I’m sitting out here, in the cold, trying to think of what to do. Do I sit on my hands and wait for the Inquisitor to return and hope that she’ll help, or should I try getting to the damn place myself?”

Bull was silent for a moment, his eye distant as he looked out over the courtyard below. I smothered the desire to run. Running wasn’t going to help. I was being honest, in an incomplete sort of way, and I genuinely wanted Bull’s help. Of course, running afterwards depended on his answer.

“Do you know where this place is?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Sort of? I think it’s somewhere in Antiva. In the Tellari Swamps.”

He was quiet again. For a few minutes, we sat in silence; me, dreading his answer, and him, trying to come up with said answer. The anticipation was making my stomach cramp up.

“I think,” Bull said slowly, “that you should talk to the Inquisitor.”

I grimaced and hid my face in my arms. Running away sounded so good right about now.

“Hear me out,” he continued, his fingers tapping along my spine. He brought his other hand up and held out a finger. “The journey to Denerim alone would take you a month on a horse. Ferelden is under a thick layer of snow right now.”

He added another finger. “Then, the ship to Antiva would cost a pretty sovereign or two, and that’s if you’re lucky enough to find a ship in the harbor to take you at all.”

He added one last finger. “And lastly, you don’t even know where that place in your memory is. Even if it is in the swamps, there’s too much ground for just you to cover. You would be out there for months looking for a place that might not even be where you think it is.”

I hugged my knees closer to me, willing myself to be smaller. This wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I wanted to hear him say that I could do it; that I would be able to find my way to that place and regain whatever memories I could. Yet here he sat, listing off the reasons why I couldn’t go. Reasons I damn well knew were there already.

Dropping his hand, Bull moved his other one to my shoulder and pulled me closer until I was fitted snugly against his side. “It’s okay to ask for help, Herah,” he said. “Ask the Boss for help. She’s your best bet.”

When I refused to speak, Bull added, “You’re mad at her, right? For Florianne.”

Hearing her name was like an elbow to the stomach. My breathing hitched as memories of my encounter with the former Grand Duchess filled my mind. I could taste the deathroot in the champagne. I could smell the blood as I sliced my arm open on the wyvern statue. I could still see the smile on that woman’s face as she left to try and kill Lavellan.

“Florianne tried to kill me...to kill all of us. And the Inquisitor chose to pardon her in exchange for information.” The words came out as a hiss. “I’m not mad, Bull. I’m furious.”

Bull sighed, his fingers drumming against the bare skin of my arm. “Do you want to know what I think?” he asked. When I nodded, he said, “I think you’re being too hard on the Boss. She’s got a tough job that no one wanted. She made one decision that you didn’t approve of. Don’t hold that against her.”

As much as I hated to admit it, Bull had a point. I wasn’t being fair to Lavellan by staying mad. I would need to forgive her eventually.

“Do you know when Lavellan is coming back to Skyhold?” I asked.

Bull chuckled. “Coming back? Herah, she’s been back for two days.”

My head snapped up in an instant, looking up at the window’s of Lavellan’s tower. Sure enough, there was a single light just beyond the glass, faint and flickering, lighting up one side of the room. I felt like an idiot. I’d been so nose-deep in those books that I hadn’t even noticed what was going on around me.

“Should...should I go talk to her now?”

With only a laugh as a warning, the arm around me tightened, briefly pressing me against Bull’s side. For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

“Sleeping might be a better idea,” the qunari said.

“But-”

“No buts.” Bull released me from the hug, stood with a grunt, and offered me a hand. “It’s late, and you both need rest.”

I took his hand and pulled myself up, my eyes narrowing. “But I’m not-” I was cut off as a yawn escaped me, making my eyes almost water. “...tired,” I finished.

Bull just smiled and steered me towards my tower, his arm slung around me. He still felt so warm. Tucked against him, I felt like I was wrapped in a blanket. He was a walking space heater. A walking, talking, extremely muscular space heater.

I was suddenly reminded of just how smitten I was with The Iron Bull.

When the two of us reached my door, Bull opened it and tried to nudge me inside. “Go. Sleep.”

“I-I will,” I mumbled. I took a step forward, but stopped and turned back. “Thank you, Bull. For...y’know. Listening to me. And helping me.”

The smile on Bull’s face seemed to soften a fraction when I spoke, and in one smooth motion he took my hand and lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. I felt my face instantly heat up at the gesture.

“Anytime,” he said softly. As he held my gaze, I became increasingly aware of the color rising in my face and the pulse thundering in my ears.

Swallowing audibly, I slipped my hand from Bull’s and retreated into my room. He straightened up, still smiling as I began closing the door.

“Well, uh,” I stammered, “g-goodnight, Bull.”

He nodded and turned to go. “Goodnight, Herah. Pleasant dreams.”

When he finally went on his way, I forced myself to shut the door and began clearing off my bed. Bull was too damn aware of everything. He clearly knew what kind of effect he had on me. It was almost unfair. Just a few minutes of talking, and he knew exactly what I needed to do. Not to mention he knew just how to phrase things to make me want to make up with Lavellan.

I sighed as I crawled under the covers. Tomorrow was going to be a big day. I needed to talk to Lavellan, apologize for being mad, and somehow convince her to help me find The Silent Grove. It was going to be a hectic day, and I was going to need as much sleep as possible.  Would Lavellan even want to talk to me? I couldn’t help but worry that she wasn’t going to want to see me, let alone talk to me. But that was a worry for tomorrow. For now, sleep was what I needed.


	42. An Emotional Rollercoaster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy moly!! We're roughly two thirds of the way through this story, not counting DLC stories! This is crazy!
> 
> Thank you for all your support during this rough patch I'm going through. I'm still sick and there's no diagnosis yet, but I feel like I'm making steady progress towards normalcy again. Hopefully there won't be so much of a gap between this chapter and the next. I'm aiming to get at least one chapter done and posted a month to get back into some semblance of a schedule for you guys.

The next morning, I awoke with a racing heart and shaking hands. My nerves from the previous night had made a comeback, and I was once more worrying about the conversation I would be having with Lavellan. I had no idea how she was going to react, and I had no idea if she was going to help me.

As I got dressed, I had to stop several times to take steady breaths. I was starting to panic, and I needed to calm down before I had a total breakdown. I wasn’t going to get anything done if my anxiety had anything to say about it. Every time I felt a wave of fear rising, I sat down on the edge of my bed and put my head between my knees until I calmed down.

Anxiety was such a bitch.

When I felt like I had a better handle on things, I stood and headed for the door, pausing only once to put on my flower crown. Despite the weeks that had passed, the tiny pink flowers hadn’t wilted at all. They still carried the same familiar scent of lilacs as well, and I couldn’t help but be comforted by it. I had a few good memories tied to that scent; memories I still held dear to my heart, despite the pain that accompanied the ones that followed them.

With my flower crown equipped and my journal in my hands, I left my room and wandered into the main hall of Skyhold. It was close to midday at that point. The hall ahead was filled with the usual kinds of activity; chattering nobles and tired civilians waiting to meet the Inquisitor, to either ask for aid or offer their services. I could just glance at the expressions around me and know which option a person was leaning towards. Aside from the Orlesians, of course. Stupid masks.

“Well, well. Look who finally emerged from her tower. Hey there, Pipsqueak.”

I looked to my right and smiled when I spotted a familiar snarky dwarf sitting on a bench near the fireplace. “Hi, Varric. How was Emprise du Lion?”

Varric, who had accompanied Lavellan on her trip to the snowy landscape, shook his head and groaned. “Covered in snow, red templars, and red lyrium. And dragons, of course.”

I grimaced. “Oof. That...does not sound pleasant.”

“You have no idea,” he grumbled. Then, as if remembering something, his expression brightened. “Oh right. We have a new agent. An ex-chevalier.”

It was my turn to groan, a familiar sense of dread rising in my stomach. “Are you serious?” I hissed, my voice too low for anyone else to hear. “Don’t we have enough Orlesians here already?”

Varric shrugged. “He’s not so bad. He’s made mistakes, some bigger than others, but he’s a damn good fighter. He took down a lot of red templars for us.”

I remained silent, unsure of what to say. I couldn’t make snap judgements just because he was Orlesian. There was a possibility he wasn’t as bad as Florianne or Gaspard. He deserved a chance to make a good first impression. That is, if I even met him.

Pushing aside thoughts of the ex-chevalier, I glanced towards the end of the main hall. “Have you seen the Inquisitor around? I needed to speak with her.” When Varric raised an eyebrow, I rolled my eyes and added, “Fine, I need to apologize to her. Is she around?”

“She was out here a little while ago. I think she was heading for a meeting with the advisors.”

I left him with a smile and a wave, walking briskly through the crowd to reach the room quickly. It wouldn’t be good if I interrupted the meeting. Ever since I’d become human, I hadn’t exactly been invited to the meetings. I could only hope that I got there before she headed inside.

Upon entering Josie’s office, I immediately noticed the guards standing halfway between me and the big double doors. They were chatting, too quiet for me to hear, but straightened when I walked forward.

I called, “Is the Inquisitor in a meeting?”

The pair nodded once in confirmation. “Yes, Lady Herah,” one said.

I gave them a small smile. “Thank you. I’ll wait out here for her.”

The guards allowed me to pass, and I settled on the stone bench just beyond them. I immediately opened my journal and began leafing through the pages. I had so many notes from my research; some scribbled out, some underlined several times. In the back of my mind, I missed having different colored inks and highlighters. Having only a quill or a stick of charcoal to write with was a pain.

How hard would it be to invent the pen?

Pushing that silly thought aside, I turned to a clean page. I had originally meant to spend some time writing down the little pieces of memory I had reclaimed, but I had already written down everything I could recall. After two weeks of thinking about the same thing, I wanted something new to write down.

As my eyes lifted from the page to the window across from me, I tried to pull more pieces into the light. I started with the things I could remember easily.

My aunt’s smiling face creased with the lines of age.

The strange woman’s staff, with the eyeless sockets of its skull staring down at me. Her own cold gaze, sending chills up my spine.

The dragon above the temple, with its purple scales shining in the sunlight. Its golden eyes locked on me as fire danced in its throat, ready to engulf me.

I tore my eyes away from the window as I pulled away from the memory. My heart was beating rapidly in my chest, almost like a caged bird. With shaking hands, I closed my journal and set the charcoal aside.

Through my attempt, I had recovered a small piece of that memory. I had hoped for what had happened after my arrival in The Silent Grove. Instead, I had regained the feeling of fear at seeing the giant purple dragon. I could practically taste the scream that had been building inside of me. I had wanted to run away, back to the ruins I had woken up in, but I couldn’t remember the way back.

Inhaling slowly, I began cycling through my calming strategies once again. Slow breath in, hold it, slow breath out. Repeat for longer. And as my mind calmed, I whispered to myself, “I’m in control. I’m not in danger.”

By the time the war room doors opened, I was almost completely back to normal. I would have to keep my attempts at remembering confined to my room or whatever safe space I had close by. I still didn’t like the idea of people seeing me in the midst of a panic attack.

“Oh! Herah, I didn’t know you were out here.”

I looked up to see Lavellan stepping out of the war room. She was dressed plainly, but the silver brooch pinned to her shoulder spoke loudly of her position. She seemed to be coming down from Inquisitor-mode, her eyes tired despite it only being midday. How much rest had she gotten since her return? It didn’t seem like much.

“I was waiting for a break in your meeting,” I said. My voice was a little quieter than I’d wanted, so I cleared my throat and added, “I wanted to apologize. I-I wasn’t a good friend to you, and I…” I paused as I tried to come up with better words. They refused to come, much to my embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

Lavellan, who had crossed the hall during my apology, placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and sighed softly. “It’s alright, Herah. You had your reasons to be suspicious of Florianne. I am sorry it created a rift between us.”

I sniffled and shook my head, my gaze dropping to the stone floor. “No, you have no reason to apologize. It’s my fault. I wasn’t thinking about your duties as Inquisitor. I was just focusing on me, and I’m so sorry.” My voice cracked several times, and I was silently thankful that no one else had followed Lavellan out into the hall.

Humming softly, Lavellan pressed her lips to my forehead and pulled me into a hug. “Hush, _lethallan_. Let us put this behind us. We have forgiven each other, and that is what counts.”

I nodded once into her shoulder, swallowing the urge to cry into her shoulder. I didn’t need to do that here. I could fight back the tears until I was back in my room.

Then, as Lavellan was pulling away, I remembered the other reason for wanting to talk to her. “Lavellan, I…” I dropped my voice into a murmur, so not even the guards could hear us. “I remembered a little more. About when I first came to Thedas.”

“You did? When was this?”

I fidgeted for a moment, rubbing at the black smears of charcoal on my palm. “It was the afternoon after we fought.”

“Ah, then I see why you did not tell me sooner.” Lavellan turned back towards the war room, where I could see Josie peeking around the corner. She nodded once, then looked back to me. “I need to return to the meeting for now, but will you come to my quarters later tonight? Perhaps we can have dinner together.”

I smiled, very much liking the sound of that idea. “Definitely. I’ll bring my notes.”

One of her eyebrows lifted. “Notes?”

I gave her a sheepish smile and a shrug. “It’s been a long two weeks. I may have done a little research.”

Lavellan laughed softly and patted my shoulder. “Then I shall see you tonight. Stay out of trouble, _lethallan_.”

With that, Lavellan returned to her meeting. I picked up my things and hurried from the hall, avoiding the guards. I needed to find something to do to pass the time. My magic lessons with Solas had been put on pause since he had gone to Emprise du Lion, and Maryden had asked me to practice the lute on my own time. I had a free afternoon to myself.

What was an anxious dragon girl to do?

* * *

It stood just a few feet away from me, eight feet tall and proud. Its fur was the color of tree bark, and looked as soft as velvet. Its eyes were a dark gray dappled with green, reminding me of wet river rocks spotted with moss. Massive antlers sprouted from its head, somehow looking both intimidating and cute with a braid of flowers wound around them. No doubt the blooms were from Cole or one of the stable hands. Wildflowers were abundant around Skyhold, despite the harsh mountain weather outside the fortress.

It was an intelligent creature, and more than a fitting mount for the Inquisitor to ride into battle. Lavellan was a lucky woman.

With a hum, I tucked my hands behind my back and leaned against the stable wall, my eyes once again moving to the hart in the first stall. Dennett had called it “The Pride of Arlathan”, and had said that it was a proud beast that had yet to be tamed by anyone. It was also one of the rarest breeds to still live in Thedas. I couldn’t help the sigh that escaped me as I pushed off from the wall and wandered towards its stall. The creature snuffled at me, recognized me as “not Dennett”, and went back to eating its feed.

“I’ve been wondering…,” I said as I watched the beast eat, “is riding a hart any different than riding a horse? Are your kind easier to ride for a beginner, or should I not even bother trying to learn at all?”

The hart bleated softly, not pausing its eating, and bobbed its head.

“Oh really? You think I should just give up? That’s rude, don’t you think?” I grumbled, narrowing my eyes at the beast.

The Pride of Arlathan just bobbed its head again.

“So you agree that what you said was rude? How considerate. Maybe you can soothe my bruised pride by giving me a ride around the courtyard?”

The creature brayed and shook its head at that, dislodging several flowers in the process. I squawked in surprise and tried to catch them, but only managed to get two of them before the hart began eating the fallen blooms within its reach. I backed away before it could take a bite out of me, clutching a daisy in each hand. I sighed, suddenly feeling very discouraged, and turned to leave the stables.

I would have left, had The Iron Bull’s great hulking mass not been blocking the way out. He leaned against the stable wall, his horns just shy of scraping the beams overhead. His easy smile made me forget how to breathe for a split-second, and had to quietly suck in some air before I turned blue in the face.

“H-hello, Bull,” I said quietly while staring at my feet. “What brings you to the stables?”

Bull laughed, making my insides turn into butterflies. “I came by to have a chat with Dennett about the new mounts. Couldn’t help hearing you talking to yourself.”

He gave me a lopsided grin that made the butterflies in my stomach throw a party, and I belatedly realized I was probably crushing the daisies in my hands. I tossed the blossoms onto the nearby worktable and crossed my arms over my chest, making a point of not looking at the great big qunari.

“Don’t tease me! I wasn’t talking to myself. I was...just talking to the mounts,” I mumbled, trailing off awkwardly.

“Okay, I won’t tease you,” he chuckled. He threw in a wink too, or at least what looked like a wink. It was hard to tell with his other eye gone. “Of course, I know of a few _other_ ways to tease you.”

His words were easy to understand. It took two seconds for my face to heat up to an uncomfortable blaze, one that managed to cover me from my ears down to my shoulders. I sputtered unattractively for a minute, sincerely at a loss for words, before turning and stomping out the side door of the stables and into Blackwall’s barn. The Warden looked up from his woodworking for a moment to see who was visiting, and I could see he was barely suppressing a smile as I plowed my way past. It didn’t take the Inquisitor to figure out that Bull was having a little fun at the girl’s expense again.

Just as I was passing through the large barn doors, Bull’s great arm swung into view and wrapped around my waist, pulling me against the qunari’s chest. I was then dragged towards the stables and out of sight, my shrieks of rage barely audible over his laughter.

When we were back among the horses and harts, Bull set me down on my feet but kept his hands on my shoulders. Standing like this, the top of my head barely reached his collarbone, so he had to lean down to look me in the eyes.

“Do you want to curse at me all day,” the big man said, “or would you rather learn how to ride?”

Having a mind that lived in the gutter, my face turned a darker shade of red at the question. I was probably ten seconds from popping a blood vessel.

Bull let out another bellow of a laugh, and patted my head affectionately. “Not quite that kind of ride. Not that it isn’t tempting.”

I had to fight the urge to sputter. So he _was_ interested in me? All the flirting he’d done before… The kiss on my hand last night, the casual winks and sly comments. Did he actually mean it? He wasn’t playing around? It almost felt too good to be true.

Bull chuckled again, then added, “I meant riding horses. Or harts, once you get some experience.”

Having regained a tiny sliver of composure, I took a small step back and narrowed my eyes at him. “A-and you’d be willing to teach me? Why?”

The Iron Bull shrugged his enormous shoulders, his harness creaking under the sudden movement. “You spent two weeks in the library. You need some time outside.” He paused for a moment, then added, “That, and I saw you riding with the boss when you returned from the Emerald Graves. Where she managed an easy dismount, you practically fell off the horse.”

Caught off guard, I had to take a moment to collect my thoughts. It was true that I had never ridden alone before. I could remember the ride to Skyhold easily; I had barely kept myself seated in the saddle for more than two minutes without almost falling off. Lavellan had had to slow down and offer me tips on how to ride properly. It had been mortifying.

Still, it couldn’t hurt to learn a few things about riding. What was one more thing to learn? Not to mention spending a little quality time with The Iron Bull could be fun. It couldn’t hurt, right?

* * *

I was wrong. I was so very, very wrong.

Riding lessons with Bull did, in fact, hurt. It was not just physically exhausting, but mentally as well. By the time I figured out how to properly hoist myself into the saddle, my thighs were tightly-wound coils of muscle, ready to snap at the slightest movement. I was going to need a hot bath once I managed to detach myself from the leather seat.

“Herah, focus! You’re slouching again!”

Abandoning my desire for a bath, I focused my attention back on the present. I was indeed slouching in my saddle, and I was slowly starting to slide to my left. A quick shift of my hips and I was back in the correct position, though the base of my spine protested mildly to the abuse.

“Good. Let’s try to stay there for more than a minute, hm?”

A glance to my left confirmed that Bull was still standing a few feet away, his hands firmly holding the rope attached to my horse’s bit. His posture was relaxed, but his expression was serious. He actually wanted to teach me how to ride. For some reason, I’d been expecting him to make a joke out of it. Yet there he was, genuinely trying to keep me from falling off.

I would never admit it, but I liked hearing him barking orders at me. I liked the way his voice got all gruff when my mind wandered, and I liked the praise he offered when I got something right. Maybe I just liked the attention he was giving me. Either way, I was enjoying myself, and it seemed to show in my riding. Soon I was able to urge the horse into a brisk walk without risking a fall. I let out a whoop of delight.

“I got it! Bull, I got it!”

“Well, would you look at that. Looks like you’re ready for the next step.”

“And what’s that?”

“Trotting. After that is cantering and galloping, but those come later.” He grinned at me, and gave the rope in his hand an extra few feet of slack as he stepped away. “Tense your knees slightly, give the reins a little slack, and hang on.”

The difference between simply walking and trotting was a surprise. There was a lot more bouncing in the saddle, and my lower back and butt were taking a serious beating. I wanted to bite my cheek to distract from the aches, but I couldn’t risk ingesting any blood. So I swallowed my frustrations and did my best to focus.

“Don’t squeeze your knees so hard, Herah!” he called out. “Remember, you’re not just riding a beast. Your mount is your companion,” he explained. Using the rope, he gently urged the horse to stop and took a moment to adjust the position of my legs. His fingers were firm on my calves and thighs, and he was careful not to set off any cramps. “If you mistreat them, they won’t hesitate to throw your ass into a ditch.”

“So when do I know when I’ve hurt them?” I asked.

“They’re not going to write you a sternly worded letter,” the qunari snorted, tugging on the rope as the horse began to fidget. “No, they’ll let you know. What’s the first thing you do when you’re hurt?”

“Um… say “ouch”?” I offered. I moved a hand to the base of my spine and pressed, squeaking when something in my lower back popped. There was a small wave of relief, followed quickly by the return of my aches and pains.

Bull, amused by my answer, gave the horse a gentle pat on the neck.

“I would have said you shout, but yes, that’s the general idea. You make your pain known, just like a horse or a hart or even a dracolisk will. Sometimes they won’t make a sound. You’ll be able to feel it in their posture. They’re smart animals,” he said, giving me a lopsided grin. “All that power between your legs… You’ve got to give it some respect.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the rising heat in my face. “If I know you, that last sentence is a dirty joke in the making.”

“Maybe, but it’s true.” He looked down at the horse, who was now snuffling around his pants for more treats. He dug a hand into his pocket again and brought out another sugar cube. The horse took it without even blinking. “Never take your mount for granted.”

I studied the qunari for a moment, then looked down at my horse. It was finished with the sugar now, and was giving off an aura of contentment. Just this morning, I hadn’t been able to approach any of the beasts without getting the shit scared out of me when they twitched a hoof. Now I was finally riding one of those beasts, ready to follow my friends into battle. Well, maybe not into battle, but at least into the wilderness. But first, I had to get the hang of trotting, and then galloping. If I managed to get the hang of this in a few days, there was a chance I’d get to ride to our next destination on my own horse!

But before that, there was something I wanted to know.

“What’s this horse’s name?”

Bull studied the horse for a second, then shrugged. “Not sure. It’s from one of the latest shipments from Ferelden, courtesy of Queen Anora. I don’t think this one has a name yet.” He stooped down for a minute, giving me a good view of the top of his head and the light fuzz of black hair between his horns. “The least I can tell you is it’s a girl.”

“Well, that’s something,” I said with a smile. I leaned forward and patted the horse’s neck, giving the wiry brown coat a good scratching. “What a good girl you are! Thank you for not throwing me into a ditch. You’re such a sweet thing, yes you are!”

The horse shook her head at my praise and stamped her hoof, suddenly standing a little taller. She seemed happy to hear the compliment, and that made me feel a whole lot better.

“Say, I’ve got a challenge for you,” Bull said with a sly growl to his voice. I looked up at him, my curiosity piqued by the mention of a challenge. He continued, “if you can get used to trotting on this horse before sundown, I’ll show you something even more fun to ride.”

I gasped and clapped my hands together, only to squeak as I smacked myself in the face with the horse’s reins. I recovered with a cough.  “A hart? Or maybe a dracolisk?”

“Oh no, even better,” he said. He smiled at the confusion on my face and added simply, “I’ll let you ride me.”

“...you?” I asked, my voice flat and uncomprehending.

“Me.”

A moment of silence fell between us as my brain, already somewhat fried, made the connection. Then, all at once, my mind went from confused to alarmed to beyond embarrassed. And the worst part was I couldn’t stop myself from glancing down at his trousers for a split second. My cheeks flushed red again, and bit my lip to keep my mind from wandering.

Oh, he knew I had it bad. Bull absolutely knew.

“Of course, that’s only a challenge. You don’t need to worry about it,” he said with a shrug, his grin softening into a smile. “Just do what you’re comfortable with.”

My mouth snapped shut at that, but my face remained red as I turned my focus back to my horse. I gave a tiny kick to the horse’s belly and the creature began trotting away, the rope wound around The Iron Bull’s arm uncoiling as we went.

As the horse trotted, I was busy trying to multitask. Between attempting to calm my nerves and keeping my horse from becoming equally flustered, I was tempted to ditch The Iron Bull and make a run for my tower. The qunari was being so flirty and forward all of a sudden, and I was having trouble keeping my mind out of the gutter. I couldn’t help imagining his large form looming over me, one hand settling on my hip as the other curled behind my neck to wind into my hair. Maybe his lips would feel warm against the soft scales on my neck. He wouldn’t be afraid of using his teeth; I’d seen the marks on some of his previous partners. I knew without a doubt it wouldn’t take him long to find reduce me to a puddle of bliss. I’d heard rumors from his female acquaintances that he was _extremely_ good with his mouth…

“Herah!”

Suddenly the horse beneath me let out a frustrated neigh and reared, flinging my distracted self from the saddle before I could utter a sound. I hit the ground with a dull thud, the air bursting from my lungs in a rough wheeze as my already-aching tailbone protested the abuse. I had to lay there for a moment, stunned and staring at the blue sky as Bull calmed the horse down and led it away.

When the rope tied to its bit was secured to the fence, the qunari turned and loped back to my side. He knelt down and slid a hand under my back, helping me to sit up as he checked for any new rips in my tunic.

“You alright?” he asked quietly. “C’mon, Herah, you know how to breathe.”

Bull’s palm was warm against my spine, but after my last train of thought, the touch was like electricity. I flinched away, but that just made him check me again for injuries. My cheeks felt like they were on fire, I was so embarrassed.

I coughed and wheezed pathetically until I regained the use of my lungs. Then, when I took in a steady breath and my mind pulled itself out of the gutter again, a wave of disappointment overtook me.

“I-I’m okay,” I said quietly.

“Oh? Then why the frown?”

Realizing I had in fact been frowning, I looked away and scratched at the scales on my cheek, deliberately refusing to make eye contact. “No reason.”

“Oh, there’s a reason. Come on, tell me.”

I reluctantly glanced up at Bull, the desire to run away warring with my desire for him. The fingers scratching at my cheek slowed, stopping only when Bull covered my hand with one of his and gently held it. I looked down at the large gray hand surrounding mine, my gaze lingering on the two missing fingers and the deep scar on the middle finger.

“I didn’t…,” I mumbled, my voice trailing off.

“Didn’t what?” Bull asked.

I sucked in another deep breath, then said at a louder volume, “...I didn’t get used to trotting.”

Bull was silent for a moment, giving me time to realize how dumb I’d sounded. Then his face cracked into that huge grin that I loved to see, the one that seemed to spread from one ear to the other. His laugh echoed through the clearing, loud enough to startle the horse out of its grazing. I would have been happy if a rift had opened up right there and swallowed me, I was so mortified. Why had I said that? Good god, it made me sound desperate!

Before I could try and take back my words, there was a hand under my chin, tilting my head back until I was looking Bull straight in the eye. He was no longer grinning, but his smile was anything but innocent. I watched him, frozen like a deer in headlights, until he began to lean forward ever so slowly. Then he stopped, his lips hovering a breath away from mine as he waited for me to respond, even though he knew exactly what I wanted.

Closing the distance between us, I leaned forward until our lips met. As I closed my eyes, I was pleasantly surprised to find that his mouth was warm, his lips slightly chapped. I was so damn nervous; I hadn’t done anything like this in years. Yet the thought of not kissing The Iron Bull made my stomach clench, and I pressed my lips to his with a little more force. My hands slipped from the cold ground to his shoulders as I shifted my weight to my knees. I could feel the muscles in his arms flex as he moved his hands to my hips, and I couldn’t help thinking about him using his brutish strength to hold me down, to claim every inch of my body as his.

Good god, I wanted him more than anything. How was it possible to want someone so much?

A nip to my bottom lip brought me out of my thoughts, and I opened my eyes to see Bull leaning back, smirking like an ass. His eye glinted with what I could only identify as mischief.

“Well, that was nice,” he hummed. “Really nice.”

In all of about two seconds, my mind came roaring back to me. I was currently straddling The Iron Bull right in the middle of Skyhold’s lower courtyard. There were very few people around us, but at the same time I felt as if there were a million pairs of eyes locked onto us, laughing as I made a desperate fool of myself. A part of me wanted to stay where I was, to keep kissing Bull until I couldn’t think of anything else. But another part of me was screaming at me to run far and fast, to get away and hide in shame.

Bull, having noticed the visible distress on my face, gently took my hands in his. “Herah, you’re safe, I promise.” His smile became softer then. “Just breathe.”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I slowly inhaled as much air as I could until my lungs felt like bursting. Then, at an even slower pace, I exhaled. Repeating the process brought a tentative peace to my mind, allowing me to piece my mind back together.

I’d just kissed The Iron Bull.

I’d kissed him, and he had kissed me back. It had not been a dream or a fantasy; it was real. I didn’t need to run or hide because he hadn’t rejected me. He could have stopped the kiss at any point. And judging by the look in his eye, he was most likely willing to do it again. Funny thing was that, despite my nerves, I wanted to kiss him again, too.

“Sorry, I-I uh. That was…” I scrambled for words, but all I could come up with were incomplete sentences. After a minute, I finally managed a quiet, “Are you...really interested? In me?”

The smile on Bull’s face made my insides melt.

“What gave me away?” he asked teasingly. “The looks? The flirting? The kiss?” His hands drifted back to my hips as he added, “We could kiss again, if you wanted.”

I swallowed quickly and shifted back a little bit. Not enough to break his hold on me; just enough for me to get a little more air. “A-as much as I’d like another kiss, I don’t think we should do that again. Out here. In the open.” When one of Bull’s eyebrows ticked upwards expectantly, I coughed and mumbled, “I-it’s not that I don’t like them or anything like that, I swear. I just…”

I paused, realized what I was saying, and hid my face in my hands. “I’m sorry. I’m overthinking this.”

“Herah, look at me,” Bull said. When I peeked between my fingers, I saw nothing but kindness in his eye. “It’s okay. All I want is for you to be comfortable. If you’d prefer I don’t kiss you out in public, then I won’t. I won’t do anything without your approval.”

“But…you’ll still kiss me, right?” I asked in a small voice.

Bull chuckled. “If you’ll let me.”

Relief swept through me in a wave. Bull wasn’t rejecting me. He wanted to kiss me, to get close to me like I’d fantasized. This wasn’t a dream at all.

I couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped me as I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him. The smile on my face was so wide that it hurt.

Life was pretty damn good today.


	43. Family Troubles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks! Sorry about the delay. I meant to upload this chapter on New Years Day, but I was having trouble with a large chunk of it. But now I'm feeling a little bit better, and I'm hoping to finish the next chapter quickly. Things are finally getting to the exciting parts!
> 
> Bless tumblr user auntyelsablogs for helping me edit this chapter! You are fantastic!

Keeping to the trend of good news, I spent the evening with Lavellan. We traded stories from the past two weeks over dinner. 

Lavellan filled me in on what had happened in Emprise du Lion. Apparently, the red templars had been mining the red lyrium there. They had begun infecting captured civilians with the substance in order to farm even more. While the people likely wouldn’t recover, the Inquisition was doing their best to ease their remaining time alive.

There had also been a group of dragons flying over the area. They hadn’t attacked anyone, but instead, they were spotted landing to the east, across a large chasm between a broken bridge. Lavellan was worried about ordering the bridge’s repair with three full-grown dragons in the area; the project was set aside for the moment.

Lavellan spoke of Michel de Chevin, the man Varric had mentioned earlier. While the dwarf had spoken the truth in saying Ser Chevin was an ex-chevalier, he failed to mention that the man had once been Empress Celene’s champion and defender. Ser Chevin hadn’t been keen on sharing the details of his dismissal. Later, he had come clean to the group about a more pressing matter at the time: a demon by the name of Imshael. With his help, the Inquisition dispatched the demon, and severed the red templars’ hold on the area.

Hearing all that, I felt a twinge of regret in my heart. Even with all the danger, I would have liked to go see the place. The idea of hiking through all that snow reminded me of Spruce Creek. Maybe, I would get to see it someday. Once Corypheus was defeated, I could go on a trip with Lavellan to see the world.

Once Lavellan filled me in, I described my most recent memory, along with all the research I’d done. While the Silent Grove wasn’t a place Lavellan was familiar with, she wasn’t going to let that stop her. She agreed to talk to Leliana about assigning scouts to find the place, or at least getting one of her Antivan contacts to look into it. Apparently, our spymaster had connections to a crow? I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I was eager to get started, so I let it go.

There was, however, one thing Lavellan seemed to focus on.

“You mentioned a large mirror being in a previous memory, correct?”

I nodded. “Yes. The one I saw in my world, behind the waterfall. My aunt and I walked through it, and we ended up in a strange foggy place.” I rubbed my arms as goosebumps erupted on them, despite being so close to the fireplace. “It felt so surreal. It still does.”

Lavellan nodded and stood up from her desk; her eyes flashing in the fire’s light. “It might prove otherwise...but I may have a lead on that subject.”

I blinked, surprised by what she’d just said. “I’m sorry? What do you-”

“There is someone in Skyhold who knows about the mirrors,” she said as she slipped from behind her desk, joining me by the fire. “According to her, they are called Eluvians. They are also mentioned a few times in my clan’s old stories. To be perfectly honest, I had not expected them to be real.”

“They’re elven? But then, why would one of them be on Earth?” I wondered aloud. “There aren’t any elves there. They’re purely fictional.” 

“To me, your ‘Earth’ sounds quite fictional,” Lavellan countered with a wry smile.

I snorted. “Fair enough. So... this woman. You said she knows about the mirrors?”

“Eluvians.”

“Right. Eluvians. Could she locate one for us?”

Lavellan paused, her brow furrowing slightly as she pondered her answer. “I’m not entirely sure. It is something I will have to discuss with her, tomorrow. Will you be alright?”

I sighed, realizing she was referring to my anxiety attack, when I had considered leaving Skyhold the previous night. There was no way I was going to leave. After hearing from multiple sources, I discovered there was no way I would have been able to make the journey on my own. I was left with only one option. “Yes, I’m pretty sure I’ll be okay. I just need to keep my mind off it for now. Or at least, until we know more.”

Lavellan nodded. “Until we know more.”

* * *

The next week was a welcome blur of activity. I spent a large part of my afternoons practicing my spells with the Chargers. They seemed to enjoy helping me work on improving my barriers, though that consisted mainly of one of them hitting the magical wall until I couldn’t maintain it  anymore.

After I could keep the barrier up for twice as long, Dorian began teaching me other spells. I had a decent handle on the basic fireball, icicle, and barrier spells. I needed a bigger variety, and Dorian was more than willing to make a few suggestions. While I wasn’t ready for his necromancy spells, I was absolutely ready for something new.

Dorian’s method of teaching proved to be a little easier to understand than Solas’. Solas’s instructions seemed more like a solid science; there were only the correct ways of casting. Dorian seemed to view magic with a more artistic perspective. Casting a spell was the basic process, but there were ways you could tweak the environment around you in order to magnify the spell’s power or change it to fit your needs. He showed me how each spell worked, and then he would tell me to make it my own.

Dorian enjoyed putting a little flair into his spells, and I admired that. His magic reflected his personality; flamboyant yet serious, with a hint of mysteriousness. He was a fun teacher, and I found myself once again enjoying my daily practices. Compared to him, Solas’ lessons were a little on the stuffy side. Practicing with him felt like working with an old professor who enjoyed his subject a little too much.

Whenever I could, I spent my days practicing. From dawn until dusk, I was casting spell after spell, trying to find some way to make each one my own. I levitated books, used light spells instead of candles, and blew  fire to light my fireplace every night. It was tiring, but it made me feel as if I was accomplishing something worthwhile. If I could gain enough control and develop my skills, I could rejoin Lavellan out in the field. She wouldn’t let me go with her, if I did not have the ability to defend myself properly.

Lightning proved to be my worst spell. I wasn’t sure if it was the element itself or some internal issue, but I couldn’t get the lightning to move the way I wanted. It felt like trying to hold a scared cat. I was more likely to end up getting shocked than getting it to do what I wanted. After a few failed attempts, Dorian kindly suggested I work on my other spells first.

I was practicing one of these spells just as my day was thrown off-balance. I was sitting with Dorian, inside his little reading nook, focusing on keeping two books levitating in each of my hands. It wasn’t terribly difficult, but it was a challenge to keep my attention split evenly. It was easy to let one book drop without realizing it.

Dorian, seated in his favorite chair, looked up from his own book and chuckled. “Not bad, Herah. There’s less shaking this time.”

I looked up to ask him a question, only to feel the spell begin to wobble. I glared at the books, as if my gaze would fix the spell. Eventually, the books stabilized, and I let out a soft sigh. “Really? I feel like I’m getting nowhere with this.”

Dorian nodded. “I know that feeling well, my dear. But remember, impatience will hinder more than help.”

“I know,” I groaned. “I just want to learn all this faster.”

“You’ll learn it all in due time. Just try to have a little patience.”

I sighed, returning my attention to my spell. The books had lowered by a good inch, but they hadn’t dropped entirely. Maybe, I  _ was  _ making progress after all.

The lesson continued, until Lavellan stopped by. There was a letter in her hand. Judging from her serious expression], it didn’t contain good news.

“Dorian.” She said solemnly, “There’s a letter for you.”

“Oh?” He set his book aside and walked over to her, smiling as he held his hand out. “Is it a naughty letter? A humorous proposal from some Antivan dowager?” Snorting at the last comment, I couldn’t imagine why the letter would be from that type of person, or why Dorian would assume as much. Had he received something like that before? Now, I wanted to read the letter too.

“It’s from your father,” Lavellan whispered.

Surprised, the books under my control tumbled from the air, landing on the rug with a pair of dull thuds. I could count on one hand the number of stories about his family. The only thing he’d said about his father was that he hadn’t exactly been supportive of Dorian’s “lifestyle”. 

While I couldn’t empathize with his situation, I understood what it was like to have someone refuse to offer support. It made you feel lonely and cut off. Despite the warmth of the library, I felt cold. There was no longer an interest to hear about the letter.

I stood to go, assuming Dorian would want some space to process the letter, but stopped when the mage scoffed and crumpled the paper in his fist.

“ _ I know my son? _ ” he hissed. “What my father knows of me would barely fill a thimble! This is so...typical!” He balled the paper up even more; his expression was full of frustration. “No doubt this retainer of his is a henchman, hired to knock me on the head and drag me back to Tevinter!”

“Dorian, calm down,” Lavellan said. “You’re not going anywhere unless you want to. I promise.”

“I want to go to Redcliffe,” he replied firmly. “I want to meet this so-called retainer and end this, once and for all. How soon can we leave?” 

As Dorian and Lavellan talked about planning the trip, my own memories of my father began bubbling up to the surface. I could still remember his hair, the way it had gone from solid brown to slightly gray over the years. The smell of his cologne; a strange scent of something spicy and dark. His office had reeked of it. His eyes… 

I couldn’t remember the color of his eyes. Or the shape of his face. Or the sound of his voice. Was it deep or loud? Remembering how hearing it had made my throat close, and my mind shut down. His shouts had been a constant source of fear for me. But for some reason, I couldn’t remember what he had sounded like.

What was happening to me? 

Was I losing even more of my memories? 

First my arrival in Thedas, then my brothers, and now my father… 

What was I going to lose next?

A hand on my shoulder brought me out of my thoughts. Blinking away the haze, I realized Dorian was now standing in front of me. 

“Are you alright?” he asked. “You look rather pale. Perhaps, you should take the rest of the afternoon off.”

I shook my head. “I’m fine. I just… I was lost in thought for a bit.”

He patted me on the shoulder. “Well, alright then. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be leaving for Redcliffe this afternoon, so do remember to put your books back, hmm? I’ll see you in a week.” He turned to go, his expression grim, as his hand slipped from my shoulder. 

I would have waved goodbye, but there was something stopping me. Something compelled me to reach out and grab his hand, before he got too far. 

Dorian stopped mid-step, looking back at me with an eyebrow raised.

“I want to go with you!” I blurted out.

Dorian’s head tilted slightly as he studied my expression. “You do? I don’t think it will be a pleasant walk in the countryside, my dear. If this “retainer” of my father’s truly intends to return me to Tevinter, things may get dicey.”

“I-I know that,” I mumbled, “but I don’t want to be sitting here useless... if things do go bad. I want to be there to defend you.” I squeezed his hand as I spoke. “You’re not just a talented mage and teacher to me, Dorian. You’re my friend, too.”

At my admission, Dorian’s lips quirked into a smile. “Well, I suppose it can’t hurt to bring a dragon along.” He slipped his hand from mine, but not without giving it a little squeeze in return. “Pack your things and meet us at the stables. You’ll be coming with us to Redcliffe.” 

Then he was gone, heading for his room to pack. 

After re-shelving the books I borrowed for my spell, I all but sprinted towards my tower. I had to pack quickly, bringing only the essentials. That meant clothes, toiletries, and nothing else. I assumed Dorian or Lavellan would handle the other supplies.

Retrieving the cloth bag from under my bed, I pulled several tunics from my wardrobe and shoved them into it, followed by a few pairs of breeches, underclothes, and a belt. I tossed one of Varric’s novels into one of the outside pockets as well, just in case I needed something to read.

Then came the armor. Dagna had fixed up some decent pieces for me a few weeks ago - a studded leather cuirass with matching vambraces. She had even enchanted all of it to heighten my magic. My spells would be stronger, and I would have more resistance against magical attacks. It wouldn’t stop a sword, but most mages weren’t built to stand on the front lines.

With my armor buckled on correctly and my bag packed, I paused to think. I had my clothes. I didn’t need a stave since I couldn’t wield one without hitting myself in the face. I didn’t have a weapon, but I could always swing by Dagna’s workshop to see if she had one I could borrow. Or maybe Lavellan had a dagger? I would have to ask her when I saw her.

I turned to leave, but stopped as I passed my desk. My journal lay closed next to my quill, the dark leather cover stained with black ink splatters. I wouldn’t need to bring it along. It had too many important things written inside to risk bringing it on such a short trip. If I absolutely needed to write something down, I could try to buy a smaller journal in Redcliffe. I would be fine for a week.

Leaving my journal on my desk, I hurried from my room and headed down into the courtyard. There was one last thing I wanted to do before I got to the stables. 

The sparring ring was busy this time of day. Groups of soldiers swung their swords at the straw dummies along the stone wall while others took up practice swords and sparred with their friends. 

The Chargers were the ones in the ring now. I could spot Bull from a mile away, leaning up against the fence as Krem and Skinner squared off inside the ring. Fighting my racing heart, I made a bee-line straight for Bull.

“What’s the score?” I asked when I reached his side. 

“Krem’s got one loss. First one to two losses will buy the drinks tonight.” Bull turned his head and smiled down at me. His eyebrow quirked up when he saw my armor. “You heading out?”

“Yep!” I said cheerfully. “There’s some stuff going on in Redcliffe. Nothing too big. I feel like I’m going along for moral support rather than fighting.”

Bull chuckled. “It’ll be good for you to get out of Skyhold,” he replied. “Did you need something before you go?”

I leaned against his side, enjoying the warmth he was giving off. “I need to meet Lavellan and Dorian by the stables soon, but...I wanted to see you first.”

“Oh? That’s it?” 

I could practically hear the smirk in his voice. I huffed and looked up at him, narrowing my eyes when I saw that he did in fact have a smirk on his face. Technically, he was right. I wanted something else from him, but I didn’t know how much time I had before I had to go. 

“Okay, well… Maybe I wanted a kiss, too, but not if you’re going to be cheeky about it.”

“But we’re in public,” he murmured. His voice lost the joking tone and took on a more careful one. “You sure?”

I didn’t give my anxiety a chance to act. I nodded once and muttered, “I can’t kiss you while I’m gone this week. It’s either now or in seven days, and I want one now.”

Bull’s smile turned into a grin. “You’re feisty today. I like it.”

His attention no longer on his subordinates’ fight, Bull leaned down and gently pressed his lips to mine. The kiss, much like the first, made me feel like I was melting. I had to force myself not to try and deepen it for fear of making some kind of noise. As feisty as I was feeling, we were in public and I couldn’t handle too much attention.

Still, that didn’t stop me from enjoying that kiss. Even when Bull pulled away, I felt like I was on cloud nine. If someone had been talking to me, I would have been too distracted to hear them.

A loud thud and a cry of surprise startled me out of it.

“Two losses. Drinks are on you, Krem,” Skinner said.

Bull called out, “You alright, Krem?”

The lieutenant, who was now laying flat on his back and holding his side, grunted and gave Bull a thumbs up. “‘M fine, Chief. Just a little distracted.” In spite of the pain he was clearly in, he gave me a wink.

I felt a blush creep into my cheeks as the realization that I’d just kissed Bull in front of The Chargers sank in.

“Well, I’m going to go now.” I babbled. The way I spoke, it almost sounded like one big word, but I was too embarrassed to care. I patted Bull’s arm and started jogging away. “See you all in a week, byeeeee!”

I was just barely within earshot when I heard Krem say with a laugh, “Varric and Blackwall owe me so much money.”

* * *

Compared to previous journeys, the trip to Redcliffe was fairly easy. The roads we took were well-traveled, and the three of us were lucky to avoid any bandits. I rode with Lavellan, and did my best to help her care for the horses. We camped when the sun set, and rode out when it rose again. Along the way, Dorian seemed to close in on himself. He joked and told stories like he usually did, but there was something in his face that made me uneasy. This whole meeting had him on edge. Had I been in his shoes, I would never have left Skyhold.

When we all crawled into our tents and settled down each night, I found myself unable to sleep. My mind would constantly drift back to my father and to the fact that I couldn't remember parts of him. It wasn’t just his eyes and his voice. I couldn’t remember the suits he would wear to work, even though he’d worn them every day. I couldn’t remember what color his car was, or what time he would get home from work.

The longer I focused on the missing bits, the more I realized how fuzzy all of my memories were. Moments I had spent with my brothers, with Zach, with friends, had all become a little more blurry than before. Little details were starting to disappear altogether. Where had my friends and I gone out to eat every week? What had my school mascot been? What was the brand of the cello I had played? I couldn’t remember anymore.

The things I could remember all seemed like nothing. The sound of my parents shouting down the hall. The disgust I felt every time I saw Zach’s name on my cell phone. The sight of the sun trying to peek through my constantly-shut curtains. All the anger, the apathy, and the sorrow I’d felt after returning from the hospital were still there, lingering like ghosts.

As the days progressed, I stopped trying to remember. This trip was about helping Dorian, not remembering things better left alone. Those were unnecessary memories, and I didn’t want to exhaust myself by focusing on them. Besides, there were more important things to remember once this was over and we were back in Skyhold. That is, if I didn’t cause a panic attack trying.

We arrived in Redcliffe on the fifth morning. The streets looked much better than when Alexius had been in control. Things felt cleaner now. The people we passed seemed much happier, too. When someone recognized Lavellan, we were met with smiles and looks of surprise. Apparently the people still remembered the elf, even though she had yet to be named Inquisitor during our last visit.  

The tavern mentioned in the letter turned out to be completely deserted. When the three of us entered, I was immediately struck with an eerie feeling. My gut told me there would be some kind of ambush or attack. I stuck close to Lavellan, her borrowed dagger hanging heavily on my hip. Dorian led the way.

We didn’t have to wait long for the retainer. They appeared in the shadows of the nearest stairwell, dressed in surprisingly nice robes. He called out to Dorian, who turned to look at him with narrowed eyes.

“Father,” he said lowly.

I had to take a moment to study the man as he stepped forward. The similarities between the two men were there, though they were few. They shared the same defined cheekbones and dark hair, but that seemed to be it, as far as I could tell. Or cared to tell. As they spoke, I had to fight the urge to glare at the man before us.

“So what is this, father?” Dorian demanded, his voice laced with venom. “Ambush? Kidnapping? Warm family reunion?”

Magister Pavus sighed in a way that made the hair on my arms stand on end. I recognized that kind of sigh. It was the same sigh my father let out whenever he’d been fed up with something. “This is how it has always been,” he said to Lavellan.

Between my anger on Dorian’s behalf and my own paternal issues, I couldn’t help but snort at the backhanded comment. Lavellan seemed to feel the same way. 

“You lied to get him here,” she said. “He has every right to be furious.”

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it!” Dorian scoffed. “But maybe you should.”

The magister tensed and opened his mouth to reply, but Dorian cut him off. “I prefer the company of men. My father disapproves.”

“This is hardly news, Dorian,” Lavellan said.

“And why should it be?” he hissed. “Why should anyone care? I have no idea.”

Magister Pavus’ face had soured during the exchange. “This display is uncalled for.”

“No, it  _ is  _ called for.  _ You  _ called for it by luring me here!”

For a moment, I felt detached from the world, as if I were watching a movie I had no part in. Dorian was speaking to his father in a way I wish I had spoken to my own. For so long after my pregnancy, I had longed to lash out at my father, to shout back instead of cowering and hiding in my room. I had shouldered his disdain instead of fighting back, thinking he would move on to something else. But he never had. His gaze had never softened towards me, nor had his words lost their bite. I had done too many things wrong in his eyes.

“Every perceived flaw - every aberration - is deviant and shameful. It must be hidden.”

Even with my fading memories, I could still remember my father’s actions. Adoption was for the child’s own good. I had no chance at a good life with a baby in my way. I was already risking my education. He would cover it all up for the sake of my future. It had to be done.

But I knew better. He had hidden everything away not for me, but for the family’s sake. For his reputation. Had word gotten out that his teenage daughter had gotten pregnant, he would have become the subject of gossip and ridicule at work. He couldn’t be a good businessman if he couldn’t handle his own household. I had heard him say those very words to my mother once. 

After that, my anger had only grown. Every time I saw him, I felt nothing but disgust and hatred. I blamed him for everything. I blamed my mother and my brothers, too. None of them had stuck up for me. They had only offered me empty words and small bits of hollow comfort. 

I hated them. After all that time I’d spent living with my aunt, I’d clung to that hatred, wrapping myself in it like a blanket to keep the memories at bay. For years, I had wished and prayed for them to go through the pain they had made me suffer through. They deserved it. 

Slowly, I pushed the dark memories away and came back to myself in the present. Magister Pavus was saying something I couldn’t quite catch, and Lavellan was gently tugging on my arm. I allowed myself to be steered away, though I made sure to make eye contact with Dorian first. He nodded, silently telling me it was okay to go.

Once we were outside, Lavellan let out a soft sigh. “I’m glad they’re getting to talk. It will be good for them to mend some of the damage that has been done.”

I stepped away, keeping my back to her. “Had I been his daughter,” I said quietly, “I never would’ve talked to him. Not in a thousand years.” 

“Herah…”

I sat down on the stone steps in front of the tavern and looked out at the small port below. The town was so calm and quiet. I could hear everything; the waves lapping at the shoreline, the calls of the deckhands as they unloaded their barrels of fish, the birds singing in the surrounding forest. I took a slow, deep breath as I traced the outline of a stone under my finger. Solid. Smooth. Cool to the touch.

Focusing on everything else helped distract me from the feelings boiling inside of me. I didn’t want to keep thinking about my father, yet he stuck around like a wad of old gum on the bottom of my shoe. No matter how many times I tried to scrape him off, he never seemed to disappear completely. Traces of him stayed behind.

After a moment, Lavellan’s hand landed gently on my shoulder. Looking up, I saw her watching me with nothing but concern in her eyes.

“I will not force you to forgive those who have wronged you,” she said quietly. “True forgiveness is something that must be freely given, and only you can decide when to do it. But… Do not let your past drag you down. What happened to you was cruel, but to dwell on it may do more harm than good.” She smiled warmly, and gave my shoulder a squeeze. “We cannot walk towards the future with confidence when we carry the open wounds of the past. First we must heal, and learn from the past.”

I wanted to tell her that I didn’t want to forgive, that I was better off cursing my family with every breath I had. And yet, she spoke the truth. I wanted to walk towards my future with confidence. I wanted to be truly honest with my friends, to tell Dorian that he wasn’t alone. I wanted to take that step towards a deeper friendship, but I couldn’t do it without being honest. I would have to explain just about everything.

Maybe it was time to tell everyone the truth. That the Inquisitor’s dragon was nothing more than a human girl with a missing memory.

“La- er... _ Lethallan? _ ” I called weakly. 

Lavellan’s hand never shifted from my shoulder. “Yes?”

“I-I think...it’s time to tell everyone the truth.”

“Are you certain?” Her voice was quiet enough that only I could hear it, but it overflowed with emotions. There was worry, but there was also warmth. It grounded me.

I nodded. “The longer I wait, the worse it will be.” I pulled the flower crown from my head and studied the blossoms. They were as fragrant as ever, even after two months. “I should’ve been honest from the beginning, but… well, better late than never, right?” 

I stood up and dusted myself off, then settled the band of flowers back on top of my head. Lavellan reached up and helped me straighten it out around my horns, then pulled me into a soft hug. I was surprised by the gesture, but immediately warmed up to it. Her scent was comforting. For a moment, it felt like I was at home in her arms.

“I will be with you the whole time,  _ lethallan _ ,” she replied. “No matter what anyone says, I shall always be your friend.”

Overwhelmed by her words, I buried my face in her shoulder and held her tightly. It would be alright. Even if everyone hated me for lying, Lavellan would still be my friend. My family. Unconditionally.

* * *

Dorian eventually emerged from the tavern, looking tired but unharmed. He and his father had talked, and had come to a sort of agreement. Dorian would be staying with the Inquisition, no matter what. His father would return to Tevinter, and no one would know that he had come to Ferelden. The two were still on tense terms, but Dorian’s father hadn’t brought in the brute squad to take his son back, and for that I was grateful. We were free to return to Skyhold.

When we finally returned to the familiar mountains, the sun was setting over the western peaks. The weather was calm; a gentle breeze accompanied by a light snow. The road to Skyhold was easy to find. Those making a pilgrimage to the mountain fortress camped wherever they could along the trail. The campfires were like guideposts, flickering in the shadows of the mountains.

We left our mounts at the stables and retired to our rooms, eager to wash the journey’s dirt from our bodies and settle in for the night. As I made my way up to my tower, I smiled to myself. Perhaps I would visit Bull in the tavern. Despite only being gone for a little over a week, I had missed the big qunari. Being near him put me at ease, and with the choice to tell everyone the truth lingering in the back of my mind, I needed a little calm.

Closing my door behind me, I turned to start unpacking when I noticed something amiss. 

My journal, which I had left sitting on my desk, was gone. In its place was a folded piece of paper. With shaking fingers, I opened the note and read it.

_ “Meet me in the War Room immediately.” _

I didn’t need to guess as to who had left me the note. I recognized Leliana’s handwriting.

The Spymaster had found my secrets.

The world suddenly felt too cold, even though I was wearing so many layers. The note slipped from my fingers, drifting under my desk and settling on the stone floor with a sound almost like nails on a chalkboard. I raised my hands to my ears to block it out, but that only made the ringing in my head worse. My breath became ragged, as if the air were disappearing. I tried to breathe normally, but all I could do was gasp like a dying fish. Closing my eyes, I put all of my effort into keeping my attack from getting worse.

Just when I thought I would start crying, the air around me shifted. Then there were hands on my shoulders, cold but gentle. The smell of unwashed linen surrounded me, as well as the distant smell of liquor and food. 

I opened my eyes to see Cole standing in front of me, his pale face filled with sorrow. Even with my hands over my ears, I could hear him speak.

“Cold, quiet fears, gathering like ice in my chest. Little worries turn into looming shadows. Drowning, dark, difficult to breathe.” He reached up and gently tugged my hands down, enveloping them in his. “Touch helps to ease the hurt, to push the shadows back. Auntie’s hands were always warm. Worn with age but soft. The calm after the storm. Hush, dearie, it will all be alright. You are safe here.”

Somehow, Cole’s low voice helped calm me down. Between holding his hands and focusing on his voice, I was able to steady my breathing to the point where I didn’t feel like I was about to cave in on myself. Slowly, the panic began to subside, and I was able to think clearly.

Leliana had my journal. She’d probably read through it, too. I had wanted to explain everything on my own terms now that I had returned, but it seemed she had beaten me to it. I could only hope she hadn’t shared her discovery with Cullen or Josie, let alone any of the others. No, there was a good chance she had kept the discovery quiet to minimize damage.

“Cole,” I said, my voice quiet and broken, “can you tell Lavellan to meet me at the War Room? I...I need her there with me.” Leliana was forcing my hand, but I wasn’t going to meet her in there alone.

Cole gave my hands a reassuring squeeze, then vanished from sight. I flexed my fingers slowly, keeping my thoughts as quiet and calm as possible, then began unbuckling my armor. I wouldn’t be needing it. If Leliana was planning to end me, she would be able to do it even if I had it on. I needed to change my shirt anyway.

After I traded my traveling clothes for something clean, I brushed my hair and braided it over my shoulder. Keeping my hands busy helped keep my head focused, allowing me to regain my composure. I still looked like shit from being on the road for a week, but my cheeks were dry and my eyes only hurt a little bit. The rest of the attack’s lingering effects wouldn’t show up until tomorrow. I had no doubt I would get very little sleep tonight.

When I was finished, I donned my flower crown and opened the door, breathing deeply one last time as I stepped into the fresh mountain air. Soon Leliana would know about everything. My humanity, my memory loss, my missing aunt. Even my origins. I had written about Earth in my journal, as well as the mirrors. I had to assume the worst.

I reached the War Room faster than I’d hoped. The halls were somewhat empty now. The sun had gone down not long ago. If the people of Skyhold weren’t having dinner or drinking in the tavern, they were probably getting ready for bed. I sighed and fiddled with the sleeve of my tunic. Soon I would be able to go back to my room and sleep. Or at least I hoped I would get to. I didn’t want to leave Skyhold or the Inquisition.

“Herah!”

I looked up from the floor and sighed with relief. Lavellan was waiting for me by the double doors, her expression full of worry. She pulled me into a hug and held me for a moment. “Are you alright? When Cole said you needed me, I had half a mind to head straight to your room. Why are we outside the War Room?”

I took a small step back and took her hands, breathing calmly for a beat before answering. “Leliana has my journal. She left me a note to meet her inside. I can only assume she wants me to explain what it means.”

Lavellan’s expression shifted quickly from concern to quiet anger. “She had no right to go through your things,  _ lethallan _ . You have my word that she and I will talk once this is settled.”

“I just…” I fidgeted, running my thumb along a small scar on my finger. “I just want to know that you still support me. I need that much to keep myself together.” If I didn’t have that, then there was nothing to keep me from getting overwhelmed. With the Inquisitor herself backing me up, no one could afford to ignore me or send me away.

The elf’s frown melted away, and she pulled me into another embrace. “Of course, Herah. You are family to me. No harm will ever come to you.”

Hearing that, I felt like the world wasn’t such a scary place anymore. The fear of Leliana’s wrath, of everyone’s anger, burned away like fog in the sunlight. I could handle this. Lavellan’s words bolstered my feeble attempt at courage. For a moment, I felt as if I were standing a little straighter than before. 

I had my family with me, supporting me when I needed it most.

Still holding hands, the two of us walked the rest of the way to the War Room and stepped through the double doors. We were greeted by three wary gazes. Leliana. Josephine. Cullen. I felt a shiver of fear go through me, but a gentle squeeze of my hand reminded me of what had to be done.

“So,” I said softly, “where would you like me to begin?”


	44. Truth Brought to Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh shit! Guess who's back!! Answer: It's me, and I'm feeling so much better after my hiatus. I really needed that time to get my life in order. Depression and anxiety are such assholes.
> 
> A special shoutout to all the readers out there who've stuck around so long, and especially to those who've sent me kind and supportive messages on Tumblr! I got selfish and kept the messages all to myself, and they really helped me get back on my feet. I lost all confidence in my writing for a while, but you guys kept being so nice! So this chapter is for you guys! No matter what hardships may come your way, keep fighting towards your goals! 
> 
> For the moment, I'm gonna do my best to keep this story going on a regular/monthly basis. Now, let's get this show on the road! Enjoy! <3

The advisors' gazes never left me as I made my way into the room, shoulders hunched and wishing very much that I could shrink into a crack in the wall and disappear. I didn't need to look up to know they were all watching me. I'd be staring, too. Glaring, probably. I couldn't blame them for their anger.

Instead of letting them get to me, I kept my eyes trained on the familiar book sitting on the far side of the war table. My journal didn't belong there. It belonged in my room, where no one else could look at it. I wanted it back.

As if sensing my thoughts, Leliana stepped up to the table and picked up the journal. I felt what little determination I had falter, and had to fight the urge to cry.

"Please give it back," I mumbled.

"Only once you explain what is written inside," the spymaster replied, her voice cold.

"It's my journal." I squeezed Lavellan's hand as I spoke. Cole had been right. Touch helped keep the hurts away. "I've been writing down my memories in it."

"Your memories," Cullen echoed. "You expect us to believe that? Because they sounds like a human's memories." He narrowed his eyes and took a step forward, as if he was going to come around the table and get in my face. I took a step back before I could stop myself.

Lavellan, seeing me flinch, stepped up in full Inquisitor mode. "She speaks the truth, Commander. Had you waited, you would have heard these things from her soon enough."

When Cullen grunted and looked away, she turned her gaze on Leliana. "Instead, I return to Skyhold to find out you've violated her privacy and gone through her things."

"I do what I must when I find something suspicious," Leliana said smoothly. "I've had my suspicions that this person has been lying to us from the beginning. She is no dragon at all."

As everyone's voices raised in argument, my breath caught in my throat. The panic I had suppressed earlier came roaring back to life. Leliana had suspected me all along. She had never trusted me, even when I'd been a dragon. When I had become human, her suspicions had most likely been confirmed.

"I didn't want to lie!" I blurted out.

I immediately regretted speaking. Four sets of eyes turned to look at me in a flash, their gazes burning me at the edges. I felt like a fish suffocating on a beach. I was so scared. I didn't want them to send me away. I didn't want to be abandoned again. They didn't need me like they needed Lavellan, but I needed them.

"The truth is I was human before I came here," I continued. No one spoke out to stop me. They just watched. I took another deep breath and plowed forward with my story. "I only came here because...because my aunt brought me here. She said coming here would save my life. But after we got here" After we went through the mirror..."

The swamps.

The hike.

The dragon and its keeper.

"I only remember a little of when I came here. There was another woman. She had a dragon with her. But after that, nothing." My fists clenched and unclenched at my sides, just a twitch away from reaching up and covering my face. Tears spilled down my cheeks against my will, dripping off my chin and probably staining my tunic. "I remember more things, sometimes. In my dreams, or when I see something familiar. When" -I gulped audibly- "when I'm in danger. Like in the Emerald Graves."

"This does not matter to us." Leliana's voice was harsh, with an edge as sharp as steel. "What matters is that you lied to us. You deliberately hid information that we needed to know."

It hurt, the way she said it. I wanted to scream, I was so frustrated and tired and sick of her cold demeanor. She had been kind to me once. She had helped me through Halamshiral. Where was that woman now?

"What the fuck does that have to do with anything?!" I blurted out, my voice cracking. "I was scared and alone in a world I knew nothing about! I was a creature I thought was a myth! I saw magic!! None of this was ever in my world!"

I watched the advisor's brows furrow, but I pressed on. I couldn't stop now. It was a chain reaction I couldn't control.

"When the Inquisition found me, they thought it would be better to put me out of my misery! Lavellan was the only one who gave me a chance!! I know now how this world treats dragons, and I know how lucky I am to have met her when I did! She was the first piece of good in this world!"

I glared at Leliana, my chest growing hot as I met her gaze for the first time since walking in. "It doesn't matter where I came from or who I was. I don't know how to get back to Earth, and I don't want to go." I squeezed Lavellan's hand, and felt my fears shrink away as she squeezed back.

"I promised I would stay with the Inquisition and defend its cause. I don't plan on breaking that promise now."

The room was eerily silent when I stopped talking. My voice echoed softly in the rafters above us, a gentle reminder that I had just shouted at the advisors. I felt a little guilty for yelling at Josie. She hadn't deserved it, but Cullen and Leliana absolutely did. They were clearly against me, and I couldn't afford to let them push me around.

Josie, bless her soul, broke the silence with a soft cough and a few words. "I believe we owe Herah a chance to explain herself a little more." She turned and made eye contact with the spymaster, her gaze pleasant with a hint of steel behind it. "Before we pass judgement, Leliana. It is only fair."

Leliana stood as still as a statue for a beat. Only her eyes moved as she looked from Josie to Cullen, then on to Lavellan and myself. She seemed to scrutinize me, weighing her options. Then, and only then, did she slide my journal across the table towards me.

"Very well. We will hear your story. From you, this time."

I picked up the book and held it tightly against my chest. The scent of ink and parchment filled my nose, steadying my wildly beating heart and calming me. I had my journal back. My memories were safe. Or at least, they were safe for the moment. My future was still uncertain, and part of it rested on the three people standing on the other side of the table.

With a slow, deep breath, I set the book down on the table again and opened it to the first page.

Once again, I asked, "Where would you like me to begin?"

* * *

I spent almost an entire day with the advisors after that, going over my story until we were all blue in the face from talking. I went over every step of my journey, or at least the parts I could remember, and gave as much detail as possible. Lavellan stood by my side the entire time; silent but supportive, with her hand resting on my shoulder. With her there, I managed to air out every secret I'd kept tucked away. My life on Earth, my life with my aunt, and even what little I remembered of coming to Thedas. I shared it all. Our talks seemed to last for hours.

No matter how many times I explained things, Leliana never seemed to budge an inch. She was the most suspicious of me. It looked like I would never earn her trust. I doubted I'd ever had it in the first place. Her eyes were stone, her face a smooth mask. I couldn't even guess what she was thinking, but I couldn't help but assume the worst.

Josie was fascinated by my story. To her, it must've sounded like something out of a novel. Another world, with vastly advanced technology. She smiled when I told her that was how I'd felt when I'd seen Thedas, and she seemed sad when I explained my family situation. Her gaze became soft, and her shoulders relaxed a fraction of an inch. The longer I went on, the more I felt like she was an ally.

I wasn't sure whether Cullen took my story as truth or not. He wasn't quite as silent as Leliana. He opened his mouth several times to ask for more details, or to clarify something. The more questions he asked, the more at ease I began to feel. I flinched less at his tone, and even managed to give him a smile or two with my answers. He was less intimidating when he wasn't dealing with his headaches.

Still, there was only so much I could say. By the time the sun was gone and the moons were high in the sky, I had nearly talked myself to sleep. We had spent the entire day in the war room. We'd been served our meals during breaks in the interrogation. My throat hurt from it all, but I felt oddly satisfied. I had done my best, and now there was only one thing left for me to do.

"You may retire for the night, lethallan," Lavellan said after I finished. With gentle hands, she steered me away from the war table and towards the door. "You are exhausted, and some sleep will do you much good. I will stay and finish things here."

"Are you sure?" I wanted to stay and hear what the final decision was, but I knew I could only stay on my feet for a little longer. I couldn't even stop yawning.

Lavellan smiled and opened the door. "Quite. Do not worry. You won't be leaving the Inquisition. I'll make sure of it. Now, go get some rest."

I didn't have the energy to protest. I could only yawn and mumble, "Goodnight," before slipping out.

The castle was quiet. The torches on the walls flickered in their sconces, lighting my way as I wandered through the halls. Every yawn brought me closer and closer to sleep, and I had to fight to keep my eyes open. I could have sworn I felt a hand on my back, guiding me towards my room with small pushes.

Once I was outside, the night air sent shivers up my spine, rousing me just enough to make it the rest of the way to my tower. I had just enough energy left to shed my clothes and crawl into bed. Exhaustion had seeped into my very core. I was out cold seconds after my head hit the pillows.

* * *

I awoke the next morning with a bone-deep ache in my chest, radiating with dread. Somehow, it felt as if today would be worse than the previous day, like something was coming for me. A comet looming in the sky, or an iceberg on the horizon.

It was safe to say it was due to my anxiety. I'd felt like this before, though for very different reasons. This was just the attitude that followed a bad day. Normally, I would've taken some time to do things I loved, like playing the cello or going for a nice walk through the woods. I could do neither of those things in Skyhold. I would have to find something else to do to distract myself.

I tried everything I could think of that wouldn't make me leave my room. Cleaning out my wardrobe and hanging up the clothes that had fallen took some time, but not nearly enough. I made and remade my bed, trying to decide if I needed that extra blanket or not. I organized my little bookshelf of Varric's novels and tidied up my desk. But even with all the small things to keep my attention occupied, it was still difficult not to focus on the uncertainty of my situation.

Would I stay?

Would I go?

What was going to happen to me?

I needed some air.

Grabbing the thick wool cloak from the hook in my wardrobe, I headed out into the cold winter air of Skyhold. The sky was cloudy and grey, and the wind howled beyond the fortress walls, bringing the beginning of what was sure to be a big storm. I pulled the fabric a little tighter around me and set off. I wasn't sure where I was going, but anywhere was better than the tower I lived in.

The gardens, usually filled to the brim with the Chantry faithful, were surprisingly quiet and empty for the day. I walked the stone path that threaded between the flowerbeds, feeling myself relax with every passing moment. It was mercifully quiet for once; no gossip being whispered behind hands or Mother Giselle and her flock humming the hymns they knew by heart. Perhaps they were praying to their Maker lord or Andraste in the chapel. Was it their version of Sunday? I couldn't really remember what day it was, nor did I care. My only thought was that I wouldn't be bothered for a while.

When I no longer felt like walking, I took shelter in the small gazebo - in a seat near a small table - and closed my eyes. This was the peace that my heart craved so much. For now, I could forget my woes and fears, and I could surround myself with the comforting signs of the coming spring. Newly grown plants, their branches still green and young, with flower buds sprouting that were barely bigger than my pinkie nail.

It was a strange contrast to my years in Spruce Creek, where the winter chills had lasted until April and the winds always carried that chilly nip from the north. In Skyhold, the weather would always be slightly dampened, as if there was a curtain pulled around it, keeping out the worst. The wind would never turn violent. The snow would always melt after a few days. Spring would come early every year. Nature would always thrive. I had asked Solas how this was possible, but he had simply said, "This place has stood for many years, and its original keepers and their spells have long been lost to time. I suspect Skyhold will keep that secret for many years to come."

I'd chalked it up to him being in a particularly cryptic mood at the time, but now I was glad he hadn't told me anything. It had kept the mystery of this place alive. No matter how many times I would visit the gardens or walk the ramparts, it would always be an experience I would cherish.

It was home.

This magic castle on a mountain was my home.

The sound of hushed whispers roused me from my peaceful state, telling me that a group of people had entered the garden. I let out a silent breath and opened my eyes. I didn't really mind that I'd been disturbed. This was a public space. But at the same time, I already missed the quiet. My life with my aunt had taught me that solitude was just as important as having company. Neither were good all the time. You had to find the right balance. And my brief meditation had helped me unwind immensely.

Before I could stand from my seat, a familiar armored figure stepped up in the shade of the gazebo. It was Cullen, looking so worn out I couldn't help but be concerned. The dark circles under his eyes were worse than ever, and his skin seemed to have lost some of its color overnight. He looked sick.

"There you are, Lady Herah," he said with a small sigh. "I, ah. I had hoped I could have a word in private with you. For..." He paused and glanced around the garden, then turned back to me. "I have some questions for you, if you don't mind my asking." His voice didn't carry the usual clipped tone he liked to use when he was in charge. It was odd, but not unwelcome.

I gave him a tired smile and shrugged. I'd answered so many questions already, I had no idea what he was going to try and go for. It wasn't ike I had anything to hide anymore. "Sure. What do you want to know?"

The commander took the seat across from mine, so the table was between us. His fingers idly ran across the tiled surface as he leaned back. "Have you ever heard of chess?" he asked.

Huh. Not a question I was expecting, but okay. I leaned forward and looked down at the board. "There's chess where I grew up, if that's what you're asking. But I was never very good at it." In truth I was absolute garbage. I couldn't think two moves ahead even if I tried.

"Shall we play?" He tugged at something under the table, pulling out a drawer filled with pieces of white and black stone, carved into familiar shapes. Two kings, two queens, a handful of knights and bishops and rooks, and a horde of pawns. It seemed like we knew the same version of chess.

As he began organizing the black pieces on his side, I studied the white ones. They were small and wooden, carved with an artist's precision. The knights rode griffins wearing armor plating, while the bishops rode horses with braided manes and carried the sunburst staff of the Chantry. The rooks stood tall, their towers polished and painted to look like real stone.

The game began silently; a quick exchange of pawns as we made way for the larger pieces to move. I didn't watch Cullen's face. I knew from experience that looking away from the board was an easy way to miss cheating. Not that I thought the commander of the Inquisition would cheat. Dorian, yes. I'd seen the man do it. Cullen, though...

"May I ask my questions now?"

I nodded, still focusing on the board. "Go ahead."

"Your aunt. You said she took you in after your family... What was the phrase you used?"

"Disowned me?"

"Right. You said she became like a mother figure for you. What exactly is your relation to her? Which side of your family does she belong to?"

I fiddled with one of the captured black pawns, running my fingers over the smooth wooden surface. "I'm not sure. I think she's my father's half sister? Or maybe she's his sister by marriage. I can't really remember. She wasn't the kind of person who showed up to the family reunions."

Aunt Ellen had always been a very curious figure in my life. Always mysterious and aloof. The cool family member that all the other adults thought was probably a touch insane. The kind your parents usually warned you to not believe when they told stories. The fun kind.

Cullen nodded, seemingly accepting this answer. His fingers twitched as he moved his queen towards one of my knights. "If you were to find your aunt... What would you do? What actions would you take?"

The question seemed simple enough. I moved a piece to block his queen's advancement. "For the moment, I just want to know she's safe. This world... I don't know what her connection to this place is, but as long as I know she's not in danger, I'm satisfied."

"And if she is in danger?"

"Then I would ask the Inquisitor for help in rescuing her." I glanced up at his face, watching his expression, as I took one of his pieces with a rook. His eyes met mine without hesitation.

"Let's imagine, if you will, this aunt of yours is connected to some less than savory characters the Inquisition cannot be associated with, under any circumstances. What then?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. I didn't like where this line of questioning was going. "Then I would politely request that Josie work her political magic to find someone who could do it for us. Or Leliana, though I don't think she'd be willing to put any of her scouts to the task for me."

"No, I think not. You aren't exactly the most trustworthy member of the Inquisition at the moment, are you?"

I grimaced at his words, a sour taste filling my mouth. I moved my queen forward and captured his, uncaring that I was putting such a powerful piece in danger.

"I told you, Commander," I said, growling, "I did what I thought was the right thing at the time. I understand that I've damaged my reputation, but it was either lie to the Inquisition or die on the coast." I paused, then added, "It's called adaptability. All creatures do it. The rich settle into whatever lifestyle they wish because they have money. The poor adapt to awful living conditions because it's all that they have. Slaves are forced to adapt just to stay alive. Animals adapt to changes in their habitat. It's survival. It's how the whole world works. Nothing will change that, no matter how hard you try to bully something into submission."

My fingers hovered over a pair of pawns. Moving one would risk the other. Even without looking, I could feel the temperature drop in Cullen's gaze. I had struck a nerve. I had meant to, but I felt bad for it. His question had struck a nerve of my own.

I sighed, and ran a hand over my face. "I'm sorry. That came out badly. I didn't mean to go off like that. It's...I'm sorry. I do regret that I lied to you all, but I don't regret that I kept living thanks to that lie."

"How do we know you aren't lying now?"

I looked up from the board, just a few pieces away from checkmate, to meet Cullen's eyes again. They were as hard and cold as stone, but something inside me kept my usual nervousness at bay. It was as if my heart was enveloped in a blanket, warmed by a low fire. Thanks to that small comfort, I felt like I could speak truthfully.

"I see no point in hiding anything from you now, Commander. Keeping secrets would only get me thrown out, and that is the last thing I want."

"And what exactly do you want?" he asked lowly, as if to keep the few people in the garden from hearing us. "What is your goal here, Herah? Or should I call you Maggie instead? Or Margaret?"

He had my pieces backed into a corner. With only my king and a few pawns remaining, I had no chance at victory. Death or surrender.

"I told you in the war room. My goal is to help the Inquisition destroy Corypheus and bring peace to Thedas. Then I'll find my aunt, and I'll ask her several long-overdue questions myself." I sighed and leaned back in my chair. "And I'd prefer Herah. It'd be strange to change my name."

I reached forward and tapped my king until it toppled over, forfeiting the game. I would "live" to play another day.

"I've done as much as I can, for now. I've shared what I can remember, and told you there are things that I can't quite recall. But I know that those memories will return, and I'll share them with you all then. Now, if you'll excuse me-"

"What if you are no longer with the Inquisition?"

I froze in my chair, halfway out of it. He wasn't trying to hit a nerve, but he'd done so all the same. The comment was spoken softly, but it carried enough weight behind it to throw me off balance. I had to take a moment to recover my composure before looking at the commander again.

"I don't think I would survive without the Inquisition," I said solemnly.

Cullen made no move to leave, so I took that as a sign to continue. I took my seat again and stared at the board; at the lone white pawn in a sea of black pieces. "I'm not strong enough to stand on my own. I'm a lone girl, a human with dragon blood, barely a mage, and I have no money and no knowledge of the world. Everyone would be my enemy. But..."

Lifting a scale-covered hand, I plucked the white king from its fallen position and placed it just behind the pawn. "If I stay with the Inquisition, I'm useful. It's a dangerous place to be, but I have friends here. I know those friendships have been damaged, or will be once this whole situation is shared with whoever needs to know. But like I said at the Winter Palace. Skyhold is my home. And I'm more than willing to do everything to defend it. And that goes for my family, too."

I took a slow, very deep breath, and looked at the ex-Templar with a very weary expression. "If the Inquisition sent me away, I would understand. But even with the skills I have now, I don't know if I would survive. I would try, but I know my chances."

Minutes passed where it was just the two of us in that gazebo; me, staring at the board while Cullen stared at me. He tried to make it look like he was putting the chess pieces away, but I could feel his eyes on me. Watching my face, my hands, my posture. Looking for signs that I was lying. I felt accomplished, as if I'd just finished a flawless concert. I'd said everything I needed to say. I was being one hundred percent honest with the commander, and I could do no more than that. My future rested partially on his shoulders.

I could only hope that I wouldn't have to say everything two more times, if Josie or Leliana came calling.

He left after that, bidding me a quiet farewell before heading back into the castle. I tried to give him a smile as he left, but it was a tired one. The conversation had been emotionally draining. I wasn't sure what I wanted more. A nap or a nice meal.

Maybe a quick little catnap wouldn't be so bad.

Before I knew it, my arms were settled on the table and my head was resting on them. The sun was warm on my back. In a way, it was like the warmth surrounding my heart had grown to surround all of me, fusing with my cloak. Was this feeling some kind of sign? I couldn't be sure, but it was nice to think of it as one. I could almost imagine I was sitting next to my aunt, drifting off to sleep as she hummed one of her favorite songs.

I must have dozed off at some point, because I woke up sometime later with drool on my chin and sleep marks on my arms.

The sun hadn't moved much in the sky, but there were more people in the garden. One in particular was instantly recognizable. The young boy I'd met before, the one with the gold eyes, was kneeling in front of a pot filled with Prophet's Laurel sprigs. He had a small book in his lap, and was looking back and forth between it and the plant. He looked significantly less intimidating when he was making faces.

I frowned and stood up, half lost in thought. What was his name again? Carver? No, that was Garrett and Marian Hawke's younger brother. Cailan? No, that was the previous king of Ferelden. What was his name? Why couldn't I remember it?

Then, like the ringing of a low bell, a clear female voice called out to him.

"Kieran."

I blinked several times.

Oh right, that was it. Kieran. How could I forget a name like that? I felt like a fool.

Mystery solved, I decided it was time to head back to my tower. Pulling my cloak tightly around my shoulders, I stepped out of the gazebo and began walking towards the rampart stairs. It had to be around lunchtime, right? Maybe the kitchens would have something to nibble on.

As I passed the boy, that oddly clear voice called out again. "Kieran. I know you can hear me."

Kieran looked up from his book and grinned at the voice. "Yes, mother?"

"Tis time for your magic lessons, son."

Kieran's mother? I'd never seen her before. Out of curiosity, I glanced in the direction of the voice.

A woman stood tall in a nearby doorway. Her onyx-black hair was pulled back behind her head and pinned up. Her clothes were very strange. I'd never seen such a revealing shirt before. It was like a scarf, draped over her shoulders and just enough to cover her breasts. Her skirt was lovely, though. It looked like it was handmade, and the dark fabric was stark against her pale skin.

But the one thing that immediately caught my attention were her eyes. They were breathtaking. They were so vibrant; a deep spectrum of golds that seemed to change with every movement. They were like a cat's eyes. When she looked at Kieran, they were full of warmth.

Then she looked at me.

And her eyes grew cold and distant. Frigid gold, full of suspicion.

I'd seen eyes like that before.

This woman's eyes were the same as hers. I could picture those eyes like I'd seen them a day ago.

The witch with the golden eyes.

The Keeper of the Silent Grove.

Yavana.

* * *

_The woman stared down at me with her vivid, golden eyes. Her gaze seemed to pierce me like a knife, digging into my chest until I had to look away. She was terrifying. She was cold. She was too much to look at. I felt that, if I continued to stare at her, she would turn me to stone like some witch out of a fairytale._

_Before I could open my mouth to speak, my aunt walked towards the woman with an almost fond smile on her face. "My dear," she called out, "there is no reason to be so hostile. We are simply early."_

_The woman looked towards Ellen, her eyes narrowing for a moment before widening into...shock? Surprise? I couldn't tell, as I couldn't bring myself to look her in the eyes again._

_"Oh, dear mother. Tis so good to see you again. It has been far too long since your last visit," she replied as she stepped down the stairs. Her voice was dark and lilting, with a faint accent I couldn't identify. The sound of an alto soloist, or perhaps a tenor? She had the sultry voice I'd found in blues and jazz music. It was lovely._

_Wait._

_Mother?_

_My fear momentarily forgotten, I looked up at the two women on the stairs and studied their faces. There was some resemblance between them, such as their noses and high cheekbones. But where my aunt's hair was brown turning to silver, the woman's hair was as black as a crow's feathers._

_So Ellen had a daughter? I'd never thought she'd had children. There had been no pictures in her cabin. No photo albums or letters or anything that would even hint at a child. Had it been some kind of secret? An illicit affair hidden from my father and our family? Somehow, I could see that being the truth. Ellen had always been a very guarded person, even when I was little._

_As my aunt and the woman, her daughter, spoke in hushed voices, I allowed myself to really get a look at my surroundings. The temple seemed to have been built in the middle of the large clearing. Any trees that had once grown here must have been cleared away. The edge of the swamp was surprisingly even, as if that part of the forest had simply disappeared. And the ground here seemed to be more solid than the swamp we had walked through to get here. It was muddy, but it didn't try to swallow my feet with every step._

_Glancing upwards, I looked at the dragon sitting atop the temple._

_Jiminy fucking Christmas, it was an actual dragon. It was enormous._

_From what I could see of it, it had to have been at least a hundred feet long. Its scales were a dark purple, each as large as my hand. It had solid black six horns sprouting from the top and sides of its head, all curved back against its skull like antelope horns. Its wings, curled tightly against its sides, were dark and bat-like in shape. When it looked down at me, I could see that its eyes were a fiery orange, almost yellow color. Like the sun just before a sunset. Large and bright and warm..._

_"Maggie?"_

_I blinked, realizing I'd been caught staring open-mouthed at the dragon. I felt my face heat up as a blush filled my cheeks, and I quickly walked to Ellen's side. "Y-yes, auntie? Sorry, I just- I couldn't- The dra-"_

_"Hush, dearie, you're rambling again," my aunt said with a chuckle. She turned me towards the woman and said in my ear, "This is my daughter, Yavana. We will be staying with her for some time. Yavana. This is my niece, Maggie."_

_For a solid thirty seconds, I couldn't even remember how to speak. We were staying here? In what looked like a Greek temple, in the middle of a swamp? With a dragon??_

_I had to close my eyes for a second, just to clear my head. I was having more than a little trouble comprehending this. This was definitely a dream, right? It couldn't be anything but that. I was having one of my crazy vivid dreams and would wake up in my cabin soon. It would be sunny outside, and I would bike down to the lake and fish for a bit, or spend the afternoon reading music and playing my cello._

_When I opened my eyes, I didn't see the wooden ceiling of my cabin. I only saw Yavana standing before me, dressed in her strange clothes and holding her walking stick. She smiled, looking at me as if I were an old friend or something. She reached out and patted my shoulder with a pale hand._

_"Come, cousin," Yavana said warmly. "Let us get you settled. We have much to discuss, you and I."_

_"We do?" My voice was barely a squeak. "What about?"_

_"Why, about you staying here, of course." She said with a sage nod. She took my arm in hers and guided me up the rest of the stairs, towards the temple's grand entrance. "You will need a place to sleep if you are to stay."_

_"Stay?!" I squawked. Before I could stop myself, I pulled out of Yavana's grip and took a step back, away from the temple. My face was hot with embarrassment, and I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. "N-no, I couldn't possibly-! Th-this is so much to take in at once! And I-? Me?? Living with d-dragons??"_

_"Maggie, dear," my aunt murmured behind me, "take a deep breath and relax. You don't want to hyperventilate."_

_But at that point, I couldn't stop. My breathing was ragged and coming in short, painful breaths that felt too big for my chest. My skin felt clammy and gross, like I was coated in mud or slime or a year's worth of sweat. Thoughts were flying so quickly through my head that I couldn't even pick them apart anymore. I only felt terror and the need to flee, to hide in a dark place and curl up and pretend the world was still normal and that I wasn't in this terrifying situation-_

_A loud, angry roar cut through the cacophony in my head, shoving the buzz of thoughts away. I looked up at the dragon on the temple roof; took in the way it was now sitting. It had lowered its head towards me, with its scaly lips pulled back into a fearsome snarl that showed off its large yellow teeth. I couldn't hear its growl past the ringing in my ears, but I could feel the vibration of it in the air around me and in the ground under my feet. It was like being enveloped in a cat's purr, but on a much larger, much more terrifying scale._

_So what did I do when faced with such a fearsome creature? I did what any person scared out of their wits would do._

_I pissed my pants and fainted, hitting the ground like a freshly cut tree._

_Timber~_

**Author's Note:**

> Critique is always welcome. Updates are sporadic for the time being, but I'm trying to get back into the groove of once a month. Don't forget to check out my [TDS blog](http://thedragonscalesonatas.tumblr.com) if you have any questions, concerns, or if you just want to chat. My inbox is always open.
> 
> Also, just a quick note: We're getting close to some plot-heavy chapters. If you think you've figured out a plot point or want to talk about fic theories, be mindful of others and **don't write spoilers in the comments.** I'd really appreciate it. Thank you, darlings!


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